


Cursed or Blessed?

by Carter_Ash_Official



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic, kotfe - Fandom, swtor - Fandom
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Imperial Agent - Freeform, Jedi, Knights of the Fallen Empire, Odessen, POV Alternating, Romance, Sci-Fi, Sith, Sith Empire, Slow Burn, There's a pet sleen too who's a delight, Zakuul, i never say no to comments, like seriously the slow burn of the century here, like the slow burn of all slow burns, or any feedback, seriously the angst is heavy in some bits
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2018-09-27 05:19:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 187,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9974534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carter_Ash_Official/pseuds/Carter_Ash_Official
Summary: Agent Fiika Allos watched Valkorian decimate her homeworld Ziost, only to get the chance she'd dreamed of to kill him (and then get his spirit stuck in her head. Rude). She finds herself on the run from his son Arcann, trying to find her new place in this galaxy after five years in carbonite alongside Master Pattik, the only person to fight Arcann and survive. He's personally responsible for relieving Arcann of a left arm.





	1. Prologue

The shuttle soared through space and quietly docked at the Spire. The passenger on board stalked out in a swish of his white robes, ignoring the guards lined up in a show of formality. He strode into the lift waiting for him.

It flew upwards. There was only one place it could go.

The man clasped his hands together behind him while he waited to arrive, his cybernetic fingers tapping impatiently on his other wrist, eyes watching the floors soar by. The news he carried was expected, if earlier than predicted. All it meant was that his plan would fall into place sooner.

Not even the Scions could predict it, the fools.

The lift slowed and the doors slid open in the pneumatic hiss.

He strode down the aisle towards the man seated on the throne. “Father. They’ve come.”

The Emperor didn’t look at him. “I know,” he simply said, and pressed a button on the armrest of the throne.

The blackness of space rippled behind the Emperor as a fleet of warships discarded their stealth covers. Thousands upon thousands of ships slowly appeared.

The Eternal Fleet.

Unveiling it could only mean one thing.

An attack.

Prince Arcann spun and went to prepare his flagship.


	2. If A Deal's Too Good To Be True...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Fiika goes from being in the Engineering team on Darth Marr's warship to killing the Emperor of Zakuul. I don't know what else to put?

“THEY’VE DIVERTED ALL POWER TO SHIELDS, LADDIES! GET WORKING ON THOSE ENGINES.”

The engine room was hot, humid, and altogether a rather unfortunate collection of sensations and smells Fiika had come to associate with the giant warship.

“DID I SAY YOU WAS ON BREAK, ENGINEER TALLI? DOUBLE-TIME IT!”

The most unfortunate thing to come out of her stint on the warship was dealing with Head Engineer Pep. The man was loud, bossy, stubborn, and worst of all: a perfectionist. The term ‘ship-shape’ was used literally, and Pep hadn’t taken kindly to having an ex-navy Imperial Agent tell him that duct tape would work just as well on valves instead of grease. Especially one as young as her who ‘was too big for her boots’.

“ _Agent_ Allos? Care to join the rest of my hard-working crew, or are you too busy admiring the scenery?” Head Engineer Pep spat sourly.

Fiika’s response was about to leave her lips, and would have no doubt gotten her in deep trouble, had a pipe not burst directly overhead and sent steam roaring between her and the Head Engineer. The sound almost droned out the various alarms and the thunder of the battle that was raging in space.

Officers were shouting back and forth over the comms, ordering this, that, no not that, I meant- shut up, we need- Boarders are- Shite- Yes, M’Lord, I- the starboard compartment has been breached- reinforcements- Jedi Master Pattik saved- Docking clamps-

Head Engineer Pep wasn’t helping either with his yelling.                  

_Wait. The Starboard compartment._

“SIR!” Fiika shoved her way past an engineer and waved Pep down. “Sir, the starboard compartment has been overrun.”

The man frowned. “So, Agent? Get back to work. Soldiers will do their job, we do ours.” Head Engineer Pep’s jowls shuddered as he took another deep breath. “HEY, LADDIE, YER TWISTING THAT THE WRONG WAY YA SON OF A HUTT!” He barreled through to the offending engineer and threatened him with a hydrospanner.

Blasterfire filled the catwalks above, and…

_Droids?_

One of the invaders dropped down beside Fiika.

She calmly aimed her blaster and nailed it between the eye sockets.

The droid raised its rifle.

Fiika dropped into a roll and dodged the bolts.

_Droids that can still function after being hit!_

She drew her vibro-daggers and shot towards the… the… whatever the droid was called. Fiika ducked under the rifle and sliced through the power cords in its legs. The droid dropped and her other vibro-dagger disconnected the head from the body.

Fiika charged towards another droid, throwing a dagger at its power core. She tugged the dagger free as she sprinted past, the droid…

_Droids can’t die, so it’s… whatever. It’s scrap._

She dove behind a crate.

_I wish I had my rifle, but nnnoooooo, Head Engineer Pep, no weapons with battery packs or augmentations larger than standard size 2._

Fiika crept around the crate and took out two more droids.

That left three, two of which were dismantling the engines, and the third-

_NO!_

Head Engineer Pep crashed to the ground, too many holes in his uniform. The other engineers… The droid were clearly programmed for maximum efficiency with maximum lethality.

She stole across the floor, and her daggers flashed in the red warning lights.

The droid toppled over.

Fiika threw her daggers at the last two. A moment later and the hilts were protruding from the power cores.

Vibrations shook through the floor, announcing the arrival of something behemoth in nature.

She collected her daggers and stared in horror up at the massive war droid as it burst through a cargo door.

It barely fit through the door, gold plating scratched and glowing in the emergency lights. Its targeting scope spun at it observed the carnage of its droid brethren and the engineers. The blaster cannons clicked into place. Another step forward made the floor rattle.

The wardroid swiveled to look at her.

Fiika’s throat was too tight to swallow the sudden lump of fear.

A green lightsaber arched through the engineering room and sliced through one of the blaster cannons; followed closely by a red and black figure. A moment later, and the green lightsaber’s owner leapt into the fray.

Fiika danced away from wild blaster fire, eyeing the wardroid’s unguarded rear leg. She broke into a run towards it and dropped into a roll at the last moment, slamming her daggers into the joints.

The war droid wasn’t going anywhere soon.

Darth Marr buried his lightsaber into the control panel.

The wardroid’s eye dimmed and it sunk to the floor, as dead as it could be.

“Agent Allos, we need an update on the engines.” Jedi Master Pattik sheathed his lightsaber and nodded towards the computer terminal. “Darth Marr and I can hold off the droids.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Master Pattik smiled faintly. “It is good to see you again after Ziost. I know-“

“On the engine update, Master.” Fiika’s fingers flew over the keys. She scanned the results, dread settling in her stomach and leaving behind the cold sensation not unlike that of eating ice cubes.

Darth Marr’s voice echoed around the engine room. “What is it, Agent?”

They wouldn’t like the answer she had for them.

“Power core is strained to the breaking point. We can recharge the shields, but they still won’t last long. There’s not enough power to do much else.” She could see Master Pattik realizing what she wasn’t saying. Marr… with that mask it was impossible to tell. “There are rudimentary controls here, my lord, but we have few options.”

Marr remained silent for a moment. “The enemy ships have us surrounded.”

“Then we save as many lives as we can.” Master Pattik leaned over and turned on the announcement system. “Attention! Shields are failing, and the enemy has us surrounded. Evacuate now, while you still can.”

The warship groaned, and a massive cracking noise echoed throughout the corridors.

“So be it,” Marr growled.

Warning lights flashed on the terminal and air pressure dropped. The engines shut down. Temperature was plummeting

Readouts one the terminal’s screen told Fiika what she didn’t want to believe: the warship had broken in half.

It was only a matter of time until they ran out of air or froze to death. Whichever came first.

* * *

 Fiika didn’t recall the engineering decking being… comfy. Not that she’d made a regular habit of sleeping on it, but this felt more like her bunk on Lord Beniko’s ship. Except there was no pillow, leaving her head at an awkward angle typically prone to creating a cramp in her neck. She went to reach around to see if she’d rolled off it.

And she promptly froze, going back to feign sleep with measured breaths and relaxing her face.

Her hands were cuffed together.

_Alright, so I’m a prisoner._

Training took over. Her clothes were on, but the knife in her boot wasn’t. The faint hum of faraway and powerful engines told her she was on a large ship. The cuffs made her a prisoner, but if she was in a cell, it was unlike one she’d ever been in. Cells didn’t have nice beds, at least, not ones she’d been in.

“You’ve awakened.”

The voice was deep and sounded metallic, rather like two gears grating against each other with a bad cold thrown into the mix.

Fiika dropped the charade of sleep and slowly sat up, opening her eyes to see the speaker was standing in the dark. How dramatic of him. She turned away and studied the rest of the cell; soft blue lights and the little viewport showing her-

_Are those spires?_

Reaching past the atmosphere of the planet below were thorn-like towers, making the murky sphere below look prickly.

“Where am I?” Fiika turned back to the man in the shadows.

He stepped forward, revealing himself. Perfectly clean white clothing-

_That’s got to be bloody hard to keep clean, right?-_

A cybernetic left arm, and a mask covered the left side of his face. His exposed eye seemed to be made of embers, and poking out from under his mask were some terrible looking scars. A lightsaber hung from his belt.

Fiika craned her neck up to look at him.

Something about him spoke of a quiet temper and too much power. Probably the spotless white clothes. Anyone who could pull off all white and keep it spotless seemed dangerous.

He didn’t answer.

Fiika repeated her question. “Where am I?”

The man looked out the window. “My flagship. You’ve arrived at the heart of our empire.”

_Our? This isn’t Dromund Kaas. Or do you have equally intimidating friends who rule with you?_

“We recovered the records from your ship’s computers. Or what was left of them, Fiika Allos.” He stared at her. “Fascinating reading. That one mere pilot could influence both the Jedi and the Sith in a war… Or were you an agent? The files weren’t very specific over your duties.... And your accomplishments at your age. Impressive.” He clasped his hands together behind his back.

“Is that why I’m here? I’m… impressive?”

_How flattering._

“No,” he spat.

“And you have me at a disadvantage. I don’t know your name.”

He looked like he was thinking it over. “Prince Arcann,” he finally answered solemnly.

“Nice to meet you.” Fiika scooted back on the bed so she could lean against the wall. “So why am I here?”

Prince Arcann glanced at the laser shield that was acting as a door. “You are going to assist me in killing my father.”

She kept her face expressionless and pretended to think the idea over while her insides rolled around in terror. “Alright,” she finally managed to get out. “How?”

“I will have to release you from your chains eventually. When I do, I will attack him. You will also attack. His reign must come to an end.” He watched the doorway as he passed her a derringer blaster. If she held it carefully, she could hide it in her hands.

Fiika’s face remained impassive. “And after he is dead?”

_Am I going to die for this?_

“If we both survive, then we shall discuss it.”

_You don’t expect me to live, do you?_

“Fine by me.” She watched a spire in the distance, the lie leaving behind a slimy feeling in her mouth. “What’s below? On the surface of the planet?”

“Swamps. Cities.”

Silence filled the room.

Prince Arcann remained near the window, watching the spires go by. Spires filled with people going about their daily routine, not a care in the world, no idea that their prince’s flagship held prisoners who were most likely going to be killed.

Fiika distracted herself from that morbid thought and scrutinized his cybernetic arm.

“How’d you lose your arm?”

“The Jedi we picked up with you.” Prince Arcann’s eye flashed with anger. “He will pay for it.”

“Master Pattik did th-?”

“Yes,” he said, cutting her off as he stared at something past the laser shield in disgust.

Fiika  twisted and saw a man approaching his golden years, eyes shockingly white and staring intently at her.  It was rather unnerving. She had the sensation he could see into her, her mind and thoughts and... She raised her chin and gave him a challenging glare.

The man smiled in approval and changed the subject of his focus. “Prince Arcann.”

He stepped forward, staring down at the older man, voice sardonic as he said, “still waiting for the catastrophe that you and your Scions foretold?”

The new man’s face contorted with distaste but his tone remained polite. “You may close your ears to the whispers of fate, my prince, but they cannot be silenced.” He shot a significant glance at Fiika before looking back at Prince Arcann with a spiteful smile.

“I wonder if silencing you might suffice. Take your superstitions elsewhere, Heskal. You are not needed here.”

He looked at Fiika again. “Yet,” Heskal said softly before leaving.

“You have… Scions? Like seers?” Fiika watched the man disappear down a corridor.

Prince Arcann’s back remained to her. “Unimportant relics with unfounded beliefs. Don’t be swayed by their nonsense.”

_Does the Scion know I’m going to die? Is that why he looked at me like that?_

Speakers crackled overhead. “Prince Arcann. Final docking sequence initiated.”

He turned face her. “I trust you can walk?”

Fiika clutched the blaster in her hands, her heart pounding. She was probably about to head to her death. “Thank you.”

Prince Arcann’s eye narrowed in suspicion. “What for?”

“I… I’m probably about to walk to my death, and… I think I didn’t want to spend my last few minutes alone.”

He turned off the laser shield, not looking at her. “Come along.”

Fiika followed him into the narrow corridor. Darth Marr and Master Pattik were being escorted by guards in heavy-looking gold armor. A pair of guards took their place behind Prince Arcann, leaving Fiika with Darth Marr and Master Pattik.

Neither said anything for about thirty seconds.

Then Darth Marr spoke. “What ‘empire’ have we entered?”

Prince Arcann kept striding forward. “The Eternal Empire. Zakuul.” He paused and slowly spun to study Darth Marr. “You didn’t even know whose territory you were invading?”

Master Pattik stepped up. “Some outposts nearby were destroyed not too long ago. Your handiwork?”

“We tested your strength.”

Fiika could hear the cool smirk in Darth Marr’s voice as he responded. “You seem to have suffered for it.” The Sith shifted his left arm to enunciate his point.

Prince Arcann returned to leading them to wherever it was that they were going. “Less than your people did. Come along.”

Something told Fiika that Darth Marr wasn’t smirking anymore. “You’re taking us to your master.”

“I am taking you to my father. Valkorian. The Immortal Emperor of Zakuul.”

“An Emperor.” Master Pattik smiled. “Just what we were searching for.”

They stepped into the lift.

* * *

 The throne room was, for lack of a better word, spectacular. Had Fiika not been consumed with the mild panic that she was, in all likeliness, going to die, she would have been trying to memorize every minute detail to tell her mother back home.

And then Fiika remembered what had happened to Ziost. No more mother, no more step-father.

Guards lined the walkway, clad in the same gold armor as their escorts. They held shields and lightsaber pikes as they stood completely motionless, speaking of hundreds of hours spent training. Behind the guards was a narrow channel of water, reflecting the starlight back to space and giving the room a pleasant... clean feeling. Gold inlays on the floor under her boots caught Fiika’s eyes. She followed them up to the dais.

And the throne atop it.                                         

It stretched towards the domed ceiling, golden arms gracefully reaching out towards space. It spoke of power, of quiet whispers of ambition and unyielding will, of strong orders and high expectations. The angles were sharp, severe, and abundant. A throne befitting the Empire it ruled over.

And the man sitting on it looked the part. White hair combed back, bearded, intricate armor and long skirts. The lines on his face told her his age, but there was a knowing light in his eyes, as if very little escaped him and he could tell someone their own secrets they didn’t even know they had.

Prince Arcann stopped at the stairs and knelt, voice echoing around the space. “His Glorious Majesty, Immortal Master and Protector of Zakuul: Emperor Valkorian.”

Fiika swore that she heard some sarcasm in his tone. The prince stood and took his place at the side of the dais, not quite on it, but close enough that he was associated with it.

Emperor Valkorian rose, staring down his nose at his prisoners. “Welcome,” he said. His voice was polished and rich, everything a ruler’s should be. Yet Fiika felt like icy water had found its way down her spine.

This was not a man to trust.

Darth Marr stepped forward, head tilted. “A new name, a new face…” he growled. “These are not enough to hide from us.”

“Marr?” Master Pattik whispered.

“I would know his presence anywhere. The Sith Emperor.” Darth Marr shifted to stand tall. “We’ve been hunting you.”

_It’s him. He… It’s…_

Fiika’s bones felt like they were vibrating with fury. She turned to the guards. Did they understand who they were serving? “This… _thing_ …” She paused to get control of her voice. “This thing you call Emperor is nothing but a murderer! He will kill every last one of you to fuel his immortality. He’s already tried it once.” Fiika glared at Valkorian, eyes stinging. “On Ziost. You killed everyone.”

Emperor Valkorian regarded her with the same level of curiosity one would reserve for a bug on a window.

Master Pattik stepped between her and the Emperor, blocking her from view. A shield.

Darth Marr continued. “Your constant silence across our history… This was your distraction?” he asked, voice dripping with disdain.

Emperor Valkorian smiled in amusement. “This was my focus. Everything else… the means to an end. You claim to have come all this way to find me. Here I am.” He held out his arms. “What do you want?”

Fiika pushed past Master Pattik, livid. “I WANT YOU TO ANSWER FOR YOUR CRIMES! THE DESTRUCTION OF ZIOST! THE WAR BETWEEN THE EMPIRE AND THE REPUBLIC- SHUT IT, MASTER!” Fiika fought against Master Pattik’s not-so-gentle force-shove pushing her back behind him. “YOU CAUSED IT ALL, _EMPEROR_!”

Darth Marr flicked his fingers and Fiika was back behind him and Master Pattik.

No. She wanted that man to pay for what he’d done. Her mother. Luuko. Uncle Garo and the cousins. Her friends, their friends, the whole world, her home… He’d done it. And he had to pay.

Prince Arcann caught her eye, understanding in his gaze. She nodded. She’d give Emperor Valkorian everything she had.

“The fates of your core worlds and the people on them are of no concern to me.”

_Bastard._

Emperor Valkorian continued. “You say you know me- if that is true, then you know the depths of my power. Whatever you hoped to achieve here, you know, deep inside, that you cannot succeed.”

_Watch me._

“But you do not have to stand against me.” Emperor Valkorian smiled thinly as his voice turned smug. “Instead… you can kneel.”

Darth Marr thudded forward, legs stiff with anger and Fiika guessed his fists were straining against the cuffs. “I will never again kneel to you!”

“You would sooner die than acknowledge my superiority?” Valkorian’s smile was no longer friendly. There was a predator gleam in his eyes, challenging Darth Marr.

The Sith stood tall. “It is you who fears death, ‘Valkorian.’ I do not. I. Will. Not. Kneel.” He brought his knee up and there was a terrible cracking sound.

Guards pushed past Fiika, and Darth Marr turned, throwing them backwards with a wave of his hand. One of the dropped lightsaber pikes flew to his hand.

Master Pattik pushed Fiika to the ground. “Stay down.”

She did not. Fiika stumbled to her feet and looked to Prince Arcann.

_Now?_

He shook his head once. No.

Emperor Valkorian raised an arm and shot Darth Marr full of lightning. The Sith shook, whole body enveloped in bright purple light. Slowly the pike tumbled from his fingers.

_No!_

The lightning stopped, and Darth Marr slumped to the ground.

Master Pattik bowed his head.

Fiika stepped back into a guard and was unceremoniously hit between the shoulder blades with a shield telling her to move up.

“CLEAR THE ROOM!” a woman’s voice roared. “EVERYONE OUT!”

Fiika craned her neck over Master Pattik’s shoulder to see a young woman, barely nineteen at best, stalk towards them, dressed in black and hooded. The guards filed past her in perfectly straight rows.

Master Pattik raised his head and stared down Valkorian. “Why the sudden privacy?”

Emperor Valkorian ignored him and spoke to the woman. “Vaylin, take this Jedi to be frozen in carbonite. His crime is threatening your brother’s life, and… _liberating_ him of his arm.”

“Yes, Father.” The woman, Vaylin, eyed Master Pattik. “Oooh, an alien. How exciting. I do love your horns.” She pushed Master Pattik towards the lift. He looked over his shoulder at Fiika, eyes telling her to be brave.

She didn’t have to brave. She was livid, and anger worked just as well for something so foolhardy as trying to kill someone with ‘Immortal’ in his title.

“You.”

Fiika glared at Valkorian when he spoke.

“In all my centuries, you alone have merited my full attention. You leave your mark upon the galaxy wherever you act, just as I do.”

“That’s a load of rubbish.”

“No? Do you not recall Manaan? Tython? Korriban?” Emperor Valkorian observed her. “Rishii. Yavin. I know you remember Ziost. You’ve proven yourself equal to any force-user.” He descended the stairs as he spoke. “Look around you. Zakuul is poised to become the greatest civilization in the history of the galaxy. I have forged this empire to surmount all my previous works,” he said, voice swelling with pride. “To span eternity.”

The Emperor gestured to the stars visible. “The Eternal Throne commands a fleet more vast than any ever built. It has the power to reshape the galaxy into any image I choose.” His robes swished as he stopped before Fiika. “That _we_ choose.” He extended a hand. “I will share all of this with you… if you will only kneel.”

Cold fury made her words scathing. “I’ve seen the things you do. Sharing isn’t one of them.” Fiika raised her chin defiantly and looked down her nose at him, voice low. “You’re a _monster_! I’ll _never_ join you!”

He looked like he’d been expecting that answer. “So be it. Arcann. End her.”

Prince Arcann nodded and flicked on his lightsaber. He cut her shackles. “Now,” he hissed. The prince whirled and leapt at Valkorian, golden lightsaber flashing as he brought it down on his father.

Something stopped the blade from meeting Emperor Valkorian’s skull. He chuckled as Prince Arcann tried again, to no change in outcome.

The Prince couldn’t hit his father.

“First your brother, now your father? Tsk, tsk,” scolded Emperor Valkorian. He… almost seemed to take amusement in tormenting his son.

“Does my ambition truly surprise you?” Prince Arcann spun, yet his lightsaber still couldn’t reach him. Pain and anger filled his face.

“You do not have ambition.” The Emperor shocked his son with lightning and casually threw him across the dais. “Only jealousy. That is why you _fail_.”

His back was to Fiika. She raised the blaster and hammered shots into Valkorian’s back. They bored through his armor, creating one small, perfectly circular hole. He fell to his knees, chuckling again.

Fiika walked around to look him in the face, hot tears in her eyes. “You should have killed me when you had the chance. Now you pay for my homeworld.”

His laugh grew until it was booming around the dome. Emperor Valkorian began to glow purple, the light blinding Fiika until she was forced to look away.

And then…

Silence.

She turned back and stared hard at Valkorian’s body, a shriveled husk of a man beginning to pass his prime.

Prince Arcann groaned from the stairs.

Fiika stepped over Darth Marr’s body and offered him a hand up.

He stared at it for a moment before taking it. “He is gone.”

“I rather hope so. Ten shots to the chest is enough to stop a rancor.”

Prince Arcann walked over to stare at the corpse of his father. His shoulders relaxed, and he turned to her. “What do you want?”

“I… what?”

“A reward for killing him.” He stared hard at her. “Do you wish to return to your empire? Live on Zakuul? It would be a pleasurable life.” Prince Arcann studied her a moment, and turned back to look at Valkorian. “He did promise you the chance to rule alongside him… I offer you the same thing, to be Empress alongside me.”

She sunk to the steps. “I… I’m not sure yet. I…” Fiika took the energy cartridge out of the blaster and shoved it back in, repeating the maneuver until she realized what she was doing and set the pistol down. “I thought… as terribly common as this sounds, I thought killing him would make me feel better over my homeworld. But I don’t, if anything, I feel lost now. I’d told myself I had to make him pay, but now what do I do?”

He didn’t answer as he sat down beside her.

Fiika remained silent.

Darth Marr was dead, Master Pattik gone off to stars knew where with the woman named Vaylin, and she… Fiika had gotten her revenge, as unsatisfactory as she felt at the moment. She buried her face in her hands, her grief building up again-

Mother. Luuko, her step-father, the man who’d raised her alongside her mother. Uncle Garo and all her cousins at the bakery. Hell, even Yunni the family featherplume who’d hated her. They were all gone, and she’d known this, accepted it, yet grief had reared its ugly head.

Fiika refused the tears and looked bleakly around the room of corpses. “How are you going to explain this?”

“I killed him with you as the witness.”

“Is that believable enough?”

“I am Emperor now. No one will dare question me. Or you, if I command it.”

“Thank you.” Fiika sighed. “I don’t even know what for, I simply feel as though I ought to thank you. Perhaps for the death of that monster. It takes bravery to stand up to one’s own father.”

Prince Arcann’s brow furrowed and he glanced at her suspiciously.

Fiika picked the blaster up again and set about dismantling it, fingers flying over the hinges and twists. Something to let her ignore her emotions.

He didn’t say anything.

She started putting the blaster back together.

_What do I want?_

It seemed nearly anything was possible. Prince, no, _Emperor_ Arcann could grant her anything.

He stood suddenly.

The lift doors flew open, and the woman Vaylin stormed towards them, eyes blazing as she took in the scene. “THE OUTLANDER KILLED OUR EMPEROR! GET HER!”

Guards in their gold armor marched towards Fiika. She backed up and tripped on the stairs.

“Let me go!” She booted one in the helmet and received a smack to the face that sent pain through her mouth and sliced through her lips. One of her scars had been torn open.

“Take her to the carbonite chambers,” Vaylin ordered.

Emperor Arcann said nothing. He silently watched her be dragged away.

Fiika spat out the blood in her mouth. “I WANT TO LIVE, ALRIGHT? THAT’S WHAT I WANT! TO LIVE! PLEASE!” She fought the ironclad grips of the guards and they forced her into the lift. “ARCANN! I WANT TO LIVE!”

He nodded at her before the doors slid shut.                

One of the guards hit her on the head, and Fiika blacked out.


	3. Whispers in the Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fiika's dreams in carbonite and Arcann's developement

What had he done?

Arcann stared at the freshly carbonited figure hanging on the wall; the pinched face, expression of terror, eyes squeezed shut against the cold. She’d screamed at him that she didn’t want to die.

And she technically hadn’t. So he had kept his promise to give her what she wanted.

Fiika Allos was alive in carbonite.

She looked it, too, the delicate curls of her fingers in fists, the wrinkles in her clothes.

But she wasn’t living a life.

_“I WANT TO LIVE!”_

Those screams' had been floating around in his mind, and now as he stood before her, they were silenced.

Why had he come here? He didn’t have time as the Emperor to visit a carbonite figure who wasn’t even aware that he was there. Nor did he want to…

She’d offered him her hand, so much like how Thexan had.

She’d been… kind to him. Trusted in his plot to kill his father. And she hadn’t wanted anything in turn, not until she’d thought to was going to die for it. And it was such a simple and innocent request…

He owed her this much, to see that she was alive. That he’d fulfilled his duty.

Arcann left, still feeling unsatisfied.

 

* * *

 

Researching her proved more difficult than expected.

Arcann paced his sitting room, datapad filled with files discarded on his couch. Something about her was bothering him, keeping her on his mind, and he hated it, hated the weight of the curiosity and guilt.

The curiosity he could sate.

The guilt… It would go away in time, like all the rest.

But there was so little to retrieve from that Sith warship. He knew some information about Agent Fiika ‘Spook’ Allos. She’d been a pilot, then recruited to become a spy a year after she joined the Navy. Something in a mission had gone wrong, a Sith Lord made Fiika her personal pilot… and that was where the information became sparse.

Arcann lifted the datapad with the Force.

The most recent information was from when she’d requested assignment to the Sith warship. Her reasoning wasn’t listed. He’d put together a small timeline and found it was barely a month after Ziost had been… devoured.

Fiika was from Ziost. She’d screamed for Father to pay for what he’d done.

He crushed the datapad. It couldn’t tell him who she was, only what she’d done. Arcann threw himself onto the couch and leaned his head against the back of it, thinking.

_Why did you help me before you knew my father had destroyed your homeworld?_

He shut his eyes, ignoring the rain hitting the windows.

_I did not warrant your kindness. Why… Why did you…_

_I am being foolish._

_But I need to know why she was… nice._

Arcann frowned as he argued with himself.

“Why,” he whispered.

“Do I need to explain it?”

His eyes shot open and he rocketed to his feet.

She was standing hesitantly in the doorway to his bedroom, twisting her uniform’s hat in her hands and watching him.

“Explain.” Arcann remained still, ready to summon his lightsaber.

Fiika carefully tucked her hat into her back pocket. “I thought you were smart, Emperor. Obviously I helped you kill your father so I could become just as powerful as you.”

He eyed her. “No.”

“Are you sure? There’s a lot of things left out of those files.”

“Yes. Now tell me why.”

Fiika smiled. “I just like killing people?”

“Do not play games with me.”

“Oooooh, power suits you.” She crossed the room to stand before him, gazing up at him through her eyelashes. “That… doesn’t.” Fiika reached up and touched his mask.

And Arcann found himself staring down at his hands. Two… human hands. His hands. He touched his face.

Completely smooth.

She curled her fingers into his tunic and shoved him down onto the couch.

“No,” he growled. “This is not-“

Fiika remained standing, holding out her hands, palm up. An offering. “Perhaps, Emperor… Perhaps I believe the galaxy will be a better place if everyone’s a little more compassionate. It could make all the difference.”

He stared at her hands, and slowly reached out for them.

The moment his fingers touched hers, she vanished.

Arcann jerked awake on his couch and squinted in the sunlight streaming in through his windows. He raised his cybernetic arm to block the light.

It’d been a dream.

Yet it had told him something. Perhaps some… compassion, or kindness, could make all the difference.

He would see her, and double-check that she was still alive.

 

* * *

 

She was just as he’d left her weeks ago. Still frozen, mind alive and heart beating.

Arcann silently stared up at her, the scars around her mouth and hair strands plastered to her forehead.

“Why?” he uttered.

He hadn’t been expecting a response; and he didn’t receive one.

The frustration grew.

“Why were you nice?” he spat. He hadn’t needed kindness, and she had no reason for it.

It was unearned.

“Why?!”

Fiika Allos remained cowering in carbonite, clueless.

“WHY WERE YOU KIND?” Arcann bellowed. He hated that he hadn’t deserved it. Hated that she’d wormed her way into his mind and dreams from such little actions. Hated her for… for making him think he owed her a promise of life, and making him research her, and making him frustrated.

He raised his hand, enclosing the block of carbonite in a Force grip.

One little squeeze…

He hated the underserved kindness she’d given him.

And he hated how he wanted more.

Arcann dropped his arm.

He would repay it, and then he would no longer owe her anything.

Freeing her was out of the question; it would be too difficult to explain.

He would visit once a week, make sure she was alive, and earn that kindness.

Just so he could be rid of the frustration that plagued him.

 

* * *

 

Arcann leaned against the wall. It’d been well over two years since she’d been frozen, well over two years of him becoming accustomed to being Emperor and well over two years of him sneaking away to have a moment of peace in the carbonite room; just to think, to… to have somebody to talk to, even if she couldn’t respond or hear him.

It was the act of speaking it aloud that left him feeling… peaceful.

“Those galas are tiresome. There are better things for me to spend my time doing.” He rolled his shoulder and spoke in an amused tone to Fiika’s form. “I… have a fan club. The leader is some socialite, Indo Zal. He’s offered his sister as my bride. Others proposed similar scenarios involving my sister…” He paused and thought back to the scene a couple hours ago. “Vaylin did not take kindly to them.”

Something about it had stuck Arcann as… off, as if a marriage alliance hadn’t been Zal’s main reason for suggesting it, nor with a few of the others’. But some… He’d almost wanted to detach his cybernetic arm and leave it with the woman who’d been hanging off it.

“Undoubtedly, I turned them down.”

A marriage alliance would mean less free time, and… he would not get the peace of speaking to the carbonite room. Speaking to Fiika.

Arcann sighed and rested his head against the wall behind him.

It was late, and he had a speech tomorrow morning on… something.

He’d return to talk to her tomorrow.

 

* * *

 

A soft breeze brushed her cheeks, chilling her skin. Fiika felt weightless, empty, just her… and breeze that was carrying her-

She opened her eyes and gasped.

Space swirled around her as she stood on an asteroid, small rocks floating and spinning lazily past. Stars sprinkled the colorful nebulas, looking altogether as if someone had knocked paint over the heavens and rightfully had thought a sprinkle of glitter would fix it all.

Fiika reached out and gently tapped one of the rocks floating by. It bounced off her finger and spun away.

She followed it, marveling at the view of the galaxy in its glory.

Her little asteroid was barren; only her and her thoughts, even if it didn’t feel like it. Fiika adjusted her shirt, looking around her for the source of the uneasy feeling in her gut. Something told her she was being watched.

But there was nothing but her and more rocks.

Nothing with eyes to watch her.

Fiika knelt at the edge of the asteroid and peered down into a dark abyss of a black hole. Under her asteroid was nothing, emptiness, none of the stars and nebulas and moons that were above it. She snagged a floating rock the size of her fist and threw it towards the black hole.

It disappeared.

There was a twinge in her stomach. Fiika shot to her feet and whirled around, expecting somebody there.

The emptiness of space sparkled back at her.

_‘You have a crowded mind,’ said a voice in her head._

_I- What?_

_The voice made a thoughtful sound. ‘A crowded mind.’ It paused, considering its words. ‘You cannot wield the Force, yet you triumph over powers far greater.’_

_Who are you?_

Fiika toyed with her empty holster, scanning the sky for anyone who could be hiding. The voice felt eerily familiar, and she had the distinct impression to not trust it.

_‘I… am an ally. I want to offer you my power so you can achieve your destiny.’_

_Why should I accept your help?_

_The voice was silent for a while before it finally answered. ‘You have earned my respect.’_

_Does that mean anything?_

_‘I do not respect those unless they’ve earned it. You alone have.’_

She felt like the voice was studying her, watching her from every angle with a critical eye.

_I don’t want your power._

_The voice chuckled darkly. ‘You will die without it.’_

The terrible feeling in her belly worsened. She didn’t want to hear whatever it was that the voice was going to say next.

_‘You are dying.’_

_Aren’t we all?_

_‘You need me.’_

_No, I don’t._

_‘You must fulfill your destiny.’_

Pressure built up on her left side, pushing her back towards the edge. Fiika staggered back, trying to fight the voice as it tried to topple her.

_What are you doing?_

_‘If you do not want to save yourself, take my power.’_

_No!_

Fiika struggled against the pressure building up on her left side. Her belly erupted in pain, and she dropped to the ground, screaming and arms wrapped around herself. Ice started to coat the asteroid. When she pulled her hands away from her stomach-

_What’s happening?_

Her hands were frozen, blue and covered in ice crystals. The numbness of frozen pain was spreading from her belly.

_‘You are dying.’_

Fiika rolled away from the advancing ice, sharp pain in her wrists as they started to freeze as well.

_‘Do you now accept my power?’_

_No._

_‘So be it.’_

The voice shoved her off the edge of the asteroid.

Fiika stared at the black hole as she floated towards it.

At the last moment it vanished, and there was flash of white and warmth.

Something had saved her.

 

* * *

 

“Dear Brother.”

Arcann shut his eyes for a moment and sighed, praying for more patience. He’d sensed her following him, and had thought he’d gotten away.

“What are you doing?”

“Watching them. I find it… peaceful.”

“Ooooh, how interesting.” Vaylin smirked at the carbonite forms. “Be careful, Brother, or you might over-excite yourself.”

He didn’t respond. He wanted her gone, out of the carbonite room. It was his place to find silence for an hour or so, and his little sister was tainting it with her presence.

“Well, if you’re just going to act like you’re frozen like them, I’ll guess I’ll spar with a Knight then.” She spun on a heel and stalked out of the room.

He sighed in relief and leaned back against the wall. She hadn’t heard him. Hadn’t… sensed anything from Fiika.

Arcann gazed forlornly at the carbonite figure before him.

He’d been thinking about her lately. The girl that’d been pulled from that Sith’s ship, a pilot or agent something; that wasn’t what mattered to him. No, she’d… she’d been kind. She hadn’t shown fear at having Prince Arcann waiting for her in her cell, but she’d agreed to help him kill his father, and she didn’t ask why, only understanding on her face.

How had he repaid that?

He’d let her be frozen.

Arcann stepped forward, studying her block as if it wasn’t something he stopped by to see every few days. He was almost looking for movement under the surface, proof that she was alive beyond what he sensed.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have let her been frozen.

But she was alive, and-

He wasn’t sensing what had been there for three years.

Cold. She was howling from cold, and sorrow and resignation in her mind. Her life-force was dimming.

Fiika was dying.

_No._

Arcann hit the button for her to melt out.

She had shown him kindness and saved his life. He could return the favor. No one would know, no one came to check on the carbonite bodies anyway. She could be taken to his rooms, a doctor sent for.

Fiika’s body slumped forward into his arms. She was shivering uncontrollably, hands reaching for him.

Arcann held her close and ran to his quarters.

He’d promised her what she wanted.

To live.

* * *

 

Everything was utterly frigid and she couldn’t get warm.

Someone was carrying her.

She opened her eyes to see who.

Blackness.

Were her eyes open? She rubbed them, and opened them again.

Nothing.

“I can’t see,” she whispered. “I can’t see! _I can’t see_!” Fiika fought the arms holding her.

In turn they tightened, and their owner spoke. “Carbonite poisoning. Your sight will return.”

“Who are you?”

“A… protector.”

His voice was… weird. But he was warm. Fiika curled in closer to him, icy fingers digging into his shirt. “Why?”

He didn’t answer for such a time that Fiika thought he wasn’t going to. She struggled to stay awake, to breathe. Everything was freezing up inside her.

Her protector seemed to realize that. He barked out orders she couldn’t make sense of. He was warm. That was what mattered. She buried her head into his shoulder and he shifted her closer. Fiika ignored the urge to use her agent training to figure out who had rescued her. They had to be friendly towards her. And the muscles in his arms mean he could do a decent job as her ‘protector’.

_“Do not trust him,” the voice in her head warned._

_He’s saving me._

_The voice chuckled. “Only to save himself.”_

_Go away._

The pressure of the voice faded.

Metallic and cold hands tried to pull her away from the man.

“No,” she mumbled. He was warm. She was cold.

The hands insisted.

The man released her after a moment.

Something was forced over her face and Fiika screamed as she was plunged into icy liquid.

* * *

 

Arcann watched her through the window. The doctor hadn’t been told who she was; just that he had to save her.

Yesterday she’d been taken out of the bacta tank; and Arcann had finally been allowed to see her.

Now she was curled up in a ball, buried under as many blankets as the doctor deemed necessary. She was still shivering.

He’d been informed she was suffering from extreme carbonite poisoning. It would take another day or two for her to return to normal and go about her life, but that wasn’t to be the case for Fiika.

Vaylin had found out.

And Fiika was to be frozen again once she was returned to full health.

The doctor had warned Arcann about that particular course of action; that re-freezing her again, particularly so soon, could result in severe side-effects. Some that she could never come back from.

His hand hovered over the door controls. Did he enter? See her? Would she recognize him?

He couldn’t decide, and tried to push her out of his thoughts as he left the hallway.

But her question was on the forefront of his mind.

Why had he done it?

* * *

 

Something sparkled above her, and whatever it was, it was blocking out the light that’d been shining in her eyes for the past hour.

Fiika smiled, watching the sparkle.

Was it a shooting star? A droid to rescue her from the frigidness that plagued her? Or…

It was a person, their silhouette framed by the halo from the light.

It wasn’t Lord Beniko; no, she never wore her hair back. And Agent Shan wouldn’t- Would he? If it was a rescue mission, maybe he would cut his hair… No. Fiika squinted at the sparkling thing on their face. It didn’t look like Agent Shan’s cybernetics.

She wasn’t sure what it looked like.

The person stepped away and Fiika was hit in the face by the light again.

It wasn’t even a bloody heat lamp, oh no, it was a boring mundane light just for illuminating things.

She tried to burrow deeper under the blanket she had, and paused.

Hadn’t there just been someone here?

Fiika gazed around the room and focused on the shadowy figure in the corner.

“I’m cold,” she whispered.

The light flickered overhead, drawing her attention back to it. Whoever had picked out the light color had done a terrible job; the sterile blue hue did nothing for the medical room, and especially nothing for the ugly color of the blankets.

Blankets.

She’d asked someone to get her another, right? How long did it take them to get one? She’d asked yesterday… or had to been the day before yesterday? Come to think of it…

What day was it?

Someone threw another blanket over her. Their shadow hovered just outside the reach of the light, that thing on their face twinkling faintly.

Fiika stared at them, willing them closer. “Who are you?”

Silence.

Well, that settled it. She could do the silent treatment too.

She rolled onto her side, turning her back to them, and pulled the blankets up to cocoon herself. Another bout of the shivers erupted along her spine, making her shake from the cold.

The person added a blanket to her pile.

“Thank you,” Fiika whispered.

* * *

 

They were keeping her drugged, whoever they were. The room was spinning, rain sputtering down the window in crooked streams that made her feel like a raindrop, falling… falling… falling… into an endless abyss below.

There was an itchy spot on her scalp she couldn’t reach.

All the itchy spots she couldn’t reach.                             

Her arms and legs were shackled to the cot, which was almost like praise. Whoever was keeping her drugged thought she was enough of a threat that even as high as a kite, she could still do damage.

Who had rescued her? Where was she?

Not home.

Ziost was gone.

So was everything.

Pudding sounded good.

Something clacked behind her.

A medical droid walked past.

“Hey clanker! Can you scratch my head?”

The droid kept going.

Maybe it wasn’t even there. Fiika slumped back against the pillow. It was another vision from the voice in her head. This wasn’t even real. It was another attempt at the voice to get her to take the power it offered, no thank you very much, no, Fiika was perfectly happy as she was… except she really did want a nice bowl of pudding.

Mother had always said if something was too good to be true, it probably was. And this voice was a bully.

Fiika twisted to see who was walking past her cot this time. Was to Lord Beniko? Agent Shan? Mother? Luuko? Who had the voice decided to be this time?

Arcann.

Rather an odd choice.

The man paused at her bedside and studied her critically, heaviness in his eye.

Voices said something behind her. Fiika felt a prick in her arm, and her eyes felt heavy.

“The answer to your question,” Arcann spoke. “You were kind.”

That didn’t make any sense, but then, neither did this dream.

A hand brushed her hair off her forehead.

Fiika let herself drift off to sleep, ready for a dream that at least would make sense.

* * *

 

He should free her.

Arcann reached out, fingers hovering over her face, but not quite touching.

There was a hint of a smile on her lips. She must’ve been enjoying her drugged dream when the carbonite had solidified. He couldn’t sense what was going on inside her mind anymore. Since she’d been re-frozen he hadn’t been able to, as much as he’d tried to get the vaguest of hints.

“Enjoying yourself, Brother?” Vaylin cooed.

Arcann yanked his hand down and whirled, glaring fiercely at his little sister. “What are you doing here?”

“Hm… I got bored.” She stepped up and peered thoughtfully at Fiika. “You’re going to melt her out, aren’t you? Is it because you’ve got a little… what’s the word? Crush on her?”

He didn’t lower himself to her level by answering that outrageous claim.

Vaylin grinned wickedly and pressed her advantage. “Is she going to become my sister-in-law?” A moment later and she looked disgusted by the thought. “Oh, Brother, tell me she’s no going to be.”

Arcann kept up his silence. If he ignored her long enough, she’d go off and find someone more entertaining.

“She wouldn’t even love you. She’d been frozen for the past five years. And you let her take the blame when you killed Father. That’s not going to sit well with her, is it?”

He counted to ten before speaking. “She killed Father.”

Vaylin went still. “She did?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. I thought you did. That’s why I said she did to take the blame off of you.” Vaylin shrugged nonchalantly. “She does deserve to be in there after all! So she can’t hate you for freezing her for something she deserves.” Her smile was a challenge. “Aren’t you going to melt her?”

Arcann frowned down at her, not that Vaylin could see with his mask. “I need to tell the public that I am Father’s murderer.”

“Oh, that’s clever. They’ll think she was wrongfully imprisoned. But…” Vaylin trailed off. “Wouldn’t you look like a coward for not standing up for her?”

No. He wouldn’t stand there and be called a coward by her. “Leave me,” Arcann snarled. He let his anger show in his eyes, and Vaylin stuck her tongue out as she left.

But her words didn’t leave with her.

_Coward._

Had he been a coward, by not stopping her from being frozen? He’d had the power to stop it, all it’d taken was one little half-lie, and Fiika could be living a life. And what would he even tell her when he freed her? That he’d stood before her carbonite figure and told her his life story, that he’d cried, smiled, that he’d actually felt… something but pain for a couple moments? She wouldn’t have any idea what he was talking about…

And it would unnerve her.

No, he’d slowly tell her about the galaxy, update her on everything, and let her decide what she wanted.

Arcann clasped his hands together behind his back, satisfied with his choice of actions.

Next week he’d inform the public of Fiika’s lack of involvement in Father’s murder, and he’d melt her out.

It was everything after freeing her that was making him scared.

“I’m going to free you,” Arcann said to the carbonite figure. “I once promised you whatever you wanted, and now I’m going to grant it. You will live.”

* * *

 

She was back on the asteroid.

Fiika gaped in horror at the broken battleships littering the sky. There was Republic, Imperial, and the Zakuul fleets, all smashed and aflame. Her eyes followed a trail of smoke to the other end of her asteroid. She climbed up a small boulder to get a better look.

The entire scene was frozen in time. It was Lord Beniko’s ship, shattered and spilling inky clouds of exhaust. Lord Benikos herself was fighting, lightsaber a red arc as she separated a Zakuulan droid’s arm from it’s body. Protecting her exposed side was Agent Shan. His blaster were drawn, eyes sharp and watching Master Pattik. The Jedi was in the middle of kicking another droid to the ground in a fruitless attempt. There were only the three of them, and thirty-something Zakuulan droids.

_‘Your… conspirators,’ the voice said. ‘A pragmatic Sith. An abandoned spy. An emotional Jedi.’_

Fiika had the distinct sensation that the voice had turned to look at her.

_‘Do they even hope to rescue you?’_

She didn’t care. Fiika stood atop the boulder and waved her arms. “OY! OVER HERE!”

_‘What will that accomplish?’ the voice asked, amused._

_I can stop talking to you._

_The voice turned sour. ‘Each day they drift further out of reach. Without a center to hold… without us… the galaxy and all within will spiral into chaos.’ The voice suddenly was right next to her ear, whispering in an urgent tone. ‘Old foes have come to take your life.’_

Fiika leapt off the rock and broke into a run towards Lord Beniko’s ship.

_I don’t have foes._

_‘Oh?’_

A blue figure appeared next to Fiika, casually jogging backwards in an Imperial Naval uniform. “’Ello, Allos.”

_Taai._

Fiika skidded to a stop. “You-“

The Chiss woman smiled softly and leaned in close, lips brushing Fiika’s. “I’ve missed you.”

“You… I-” Fiika screamed at the sudden pain erupting in her back. She dropped to her knees and slowly looked up at Taai.

She was holding a dripping dagger. “’Bout time you know how it felt to be stabbed in the back, Poppet.”

And like that, Taai was gone, along with the pain in Fiika’s back.

She stumbled to her feet and kept going towards Lord Beniko’s ship. Or rather, the smoke that had risen from it.

Fiika jogged around ship debris from the battle that had raged on outside the atmosphere of her little asteroid. Some parts were radiating heat, others smoke, and some both. She hauled herself over an engine casing and swore at whatever had caught her ankle. Fiika jiggled her foot.

Whatever had her boot stuck had it stuck good.

She tried to yank her leg up and instead Fiika found herself being dragged by the ankle, away from Lord Beniko’s ship.

The dragger was-                                      

The pirate.

Fiika flipped over onto her belly and clawed at the nearest ship scrap she was dragged past. Her fingers tightened around a pipe, and she grabbed ahold, pulled with all her might to get her foot free from the pirate.

It worked.

He hadn’t been expecting that.

She rolled to her feet and brandished the pipe.

The pirate chuckled. “That all ya got? You was spunky when you was mine. ‘Course, you speakin’ was the spunky part.” He tried to take a step closer but backed away as she threateningly jabbed the pipe towards him.

Her scars were tingling.

Fiika leapt forward and her pips swung through nothing.

The pirate was gone.

She spun and took off again for Lord Beniko.

‘Do you think you can save them?’ the voice asked. It’s tone was patronizing.

None of this is real.

‘Illusions can still kill.’

Fiika pushed herself into a sprint and-

_NO!_

They were dead.

Master Pattik, surrounded by droids and lightsaber in pieces around him.

Agent Shan, half on top of Lord Beniko as if he’d been protecting her when they’d fallen.

Lord Beniko, arms outstretched in the familiar gesture of throwing lightning, one arm over Agent Shan in an equally protective move.

_‘You have unlimited power to change reality. Choose to become something greater than you are now.’_

_Enough of this nonsense. Stop speaking in riddles, you’re wasting my time!_

_‘Time is all you have,’ the voice said smoothly._

Something warm prickled her mind, drawing her away from the asteroid. A familiar voice-

_Time is not all I have._

_I have freedom._


	4. Introductions and Detours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Out of the Spire and through the Skytrooper factory, to Koth's ship they go!

The person who’d freed him seemed familiar. He blinked, reaching towards the haze of lights.

Lana Beniko’s face swam into view. She was saying something, waving a metallic object around…

All he could hear was ringing in his ears. He jerked away from the Sith as pain shot through his arm. Slowly warmth spread to his limbs and the ringing faded.

“Master Pattik.”

He stood straight as his balance returned. “Lana… I…” Pattik shook his head to dispel the heavy headache. “What’s… why are you here?”

“I can explain everything later. First-” Lana stopped midsentence, voice growing quiet with sorrow. “I thought she perished on Marr’s ship.”

Pattik followed her gaze to the carbonite figure handing next to the dripping one he’d recently vacated. “No, Prince Arcann captured her, too.”

Agent Fiika Allos. She looked almost peaceful hanging there, as if she was in a deep sleep and shouldn’t be disturbed. Something about it was wrong... it was the quiet smile. The last he’d seen of her, she’d been staring at him in silent horror as he’d been dragged out of the throne room.

_What happened to her?_

Lana stepped forward and toggled the controls on the wall.  Fiika’s block was switched with Pattiks’. The Sith hit the defrost button, impatiently fidgeting.

Slowly a red glow blossomed across Fiika’s figure, and she tumbled out, wheezing.

Pattik and Lana each hooked a hand under her armpits and hauled her upright.

“I gave you all the kolto,” Lana muttered to Pattik. She pursed her lips, studying Fiika. The girl was barely standing on her own and shivering uncontrollably. “I didn’t plan on rescuing two people.”

Fiika raised her head, smiling wanly. “Lord Beniko, am I glad to see you. Not sure why there’s so many of you…”

Lana rolled her eyes, smiling affectionately. “Let’s table any thank-you’s until I’ve got the pair of you offworld.” She gestured to Pattik and pointed to a small pack on the floor. “Gear up, quickly.” The Sith pulled one of Fiika’s arms over her shoulder to support the girl.

He nodded and looked through the bag.

A lightsaber, grenades, and a keycard.

The lightsaber felt odd in his hands, but sturdy. Pattik didn’t know where his had gone; it’d been missing when he’d woken up prisoner on Prince Arcann’s ship.

Lana slung the bag across her chest and nudged Fiika towards the door.

A droid at the entrance beeped rapidly as it spun its head around.

“Is… that a Republic model?” Fiika squinted at it.

“Teeseven Oh-one. He’s agreed to rescue… the both of you.” Lana traded looks with Pattik. He could see what she wasn’t telling Fiika. Saving her hadn’t been part of the plan.

Pattik stretched his arms out as he crossed to the door. He needed to get over the tiredness in his body from being frozen. He sensed their escape relied on him being strong.

“Not a very big crew,” Fiika muttered.

Lana looked like she was regretting freeing her pilot. “Yes, well, it’s the best I could manage. It will have to be enough. The Republic and Empire have all but fallen to the man who imprisoned you.”

“Emperor Valkorian will regret that.” Pattik moved on to stretching the tightness out of his legs.

“I killed him,” Fiika stated offhandedly. “Arcann’s emperor now. He seemed rather… polite when I spoke to him.” She turned to Lana, puzzled. “What do you mean, the Republic and Empire have nearly fallen to him?”

“Later,” Lana told her. She looked over Fiika’s head at Pattik. “You’re our last hope.”

“Then we’re a sorry sort,” Fiika muttered.

The chamber’s doors opened and Lana pulled Fiika into the corridor, Pattik bringing up the rear. He pushed past them to lead the way as people scattered at the sight of them. He could sense their fear.

“What kind of prison is this?” he asked, pausing to look at a room filled with artifacts.

Lana grunted as Fiika half-slipped. “It’s no prison. This is where Arcann keeps his most prized possessions.”

“Possessions,” Fiika repeated.

“Yes, don’t you feel special now?”

Pattik spied a medical droid in one room. He force-pulled it to him and flicked it on. “Follow me,” he commanded.

The droid obeyed.

“Up there at the security checkpoint.” Lana nodded towards a computer terminal. “Get it before the door shuts!”

Pattik broke into a sprint, but his body wasn’t ready for that after the carbonite freezing. His legs felt wobbly, lungs too tight. The door finished closing as he skidded to a stop. He braced his arms on his knees and tried to catch his breath, everything tingling.

The medical droid’s feet clacked alongside Lana and Fiika.

“She is suffered from acute hibernation sickness. Shall I retreat her?”

Pattik stared at the droid. “Retreat?”

“Scan show traces of bacta and other stims used to treat carbonite poisoning in her bloodstream. Shall I retreat her?”

“Yes,” Lana declared. She got Fiika leaned up against the wall and joined Pattik at the door. “We can figure that mystery out later. I got the door.”

Pattik felt her gather the Force and it built around the door. As Lana raised her hand, the door opened. It got stuck at barely a quarter open. “Where’s that droid?” he asked.

Lana tucked her hair behind her ears. “Generating false security alerts in other sectors. Capable little astro-” She was cut off as a comm unit on her wrist started beeping urgently. “Yes, I read you.”

A man’s voice exited the speakers. “An updated time table would be good.”

Pattik smiled as Lana shut in her eyes in irritation. Some things never changed.

“Why?” she asked with forced calmness. “Is there a problem?”

“No, no problem…” trailed the voice. “But we are starting to feel a little exposed out here. You find that outlander yet?”

“Yes,” Lana sighed. She fished around in the pack and handed Pattik a wrist comm. “I’ve patched him in.”

“Great!” said the voice. “I’m Koth Vortena. Welcome to the most suicidal mission in history.”

Fiika snorted. “I swear Lana’s dragged me into worse. Perhaps she’s mellowing.”

The voice didn’t respond for a moment. “Lana… who was that?.”

“Lana’s pilot who was captured alongside me,” Pattik said calmly.

“Lana, I thought I was your pilot.”

The Sith stared at her wrist with severe regret. “Be patient, Koth, we’re on our way.” She ended the conversation and looked up at the sealed door blocking their path. “Koth will fly us out of here, just as soon as we’re through this door.”

Pattik crossed his arms and studied it. “Lightsabers?”

“Too obvious.”

They fell silent, thinking.

“I’ve seen her before,” came Fiika’s voice behind them. She was staring up at the security screen in horror. “She’s the one who got me frozen.”

Lana stepped away from the door to peer over Fiika’s shoulder. “No,” she whispered. She clapped a hand over her mouth.

Fiika pressed a button to zoom in on the woman displayed before Pattik could stop her.

 

* * *

 

She could sense the Knight’s fear. How wonderful it was, to be the source. Vaylin smiled innocently as the Knight dropped into a quick bow. Behind him dripped two carbonite frames.

“Hi- High Justice Vaylin,” the Knight sputtered. “The intruders have released the outlanders. Skytroopers are scouring the buildings, but…”

Ooooh, a but. That had to be what had this Knight so scared.

Vaylin raised an eyebrow. “But?” she asked sweetly. “Don’t be shy.”

The Knight’s fear spiked. “But there are alarms sounding in every sector. We can’t seem to pin them down.”

“Well…” Vaylin let her anger show and grabbed the Knight’s throat with the Force. “Don’t you worry,” she purred. She snapped the Knight’s neck and threw the body down to the levels below.

A faint whirl caught her attention.

A security camera was spinning as it zoomed in on her.

Vaylin grinned. “Everybody makes mistakes.”

 

* * *

 

Lana’s face was colorless. “We’re not ready. Not for Vaylin.”

“It’s three against one,” Pattik said softly. “Just like old times. We’re more than capable-“

Fiika slumped sideways and he barely caught her. She was freezing, no help in a fight and would be a burden until she got proper medical care. The droid had done nothing. No, they couldn’t face Vaylin with her like this. Even just him and Lana was a risk he didn’t want take.

Lana took one of her arms and pulled it across her shoulders. “It’s a wonder you’re capable of standing right now.” She nodded at Pattik and raised her free hand at the door. “Go.”

He added his strength to the push, and together they opened the door with the Force. They made it through and released their holds, letting it fall back into place.

More of the Zakuulan battle droids he’d fought were waiting for them.

He shot forward, activating the new lightsaber. A burning orange blade lit up the corridor as he sliced his way through the droids, cutting and burning them into charred piles of scrap. Lana’s familiar red glow followed him.

“Skytroopers,” she bellowed. “Vaylin’s far from alone!”

He kept moving forward, spinning through the droids. A bolt whizzed past one of his horns and he force-pushed the mob back before leaping behind it.

Getting the droids’ focus off Lana was a priority; she had to protect Fiika.

Pattik deflected the blaster fire that came at him, channeling the Force to sense where each bolt was going. Slowly he moved forward, until-

An opening.

He stormed into the droids and changed fighting style, going onto the offensive and bombarding the Skytroopers with slashes that carved through their durasteel. The stench of burned metal filled his nose and drove him forward.

A red blade flashed in the corner of his eye and he whirled, ready to-

Lana.

It was Lana.

And no more Skytroopers.

Pattik flicked off the lightsaber and hung it from his belt. He took Fiika from Lana and followed the Sith down the corridor to a lift.

“Starting to really bustle out here!” Koth’s voice came out in static from Lana’s comm unit.

“Koth, Vaylin’s arrived.” Lana hit the lift button and stared back down the corridor, eyes intense.

There was shocked silence for a moment. “Already?!” he asked incredulously. “Let me know when you hit the lift.” There was a beep signaling the end of the conversation.

Pattik frowned with thought. “So what’s the story with Koth? He’s not Imperial.” He stepped into the lift, helping Fiika stand against the wall.

_Are you working with the Republic again?_

“’Course he’s not,” Fiika mumbled. “Us Imperials are trained to blend in. We don’t worry about rush hour.”

Lana gave her a look and spoke to Pattik. “He used to serve in Zakuul’s military. Now he’s dedicated his life to ending Arcann’s reign.”

“Why?” Fiika asked. “What’d Arcann do to him? Freeze him in carbonite?”

Pattik couldn’t hide his smile. The girl still had her spunk. It was a good sign after Ziost, she was starting to heal from her losses. “I’m sure you can ask him yourself, once we make it out of here alive.”

“I’ve got some questions for you, too, Lord Beniko. I thought I was your pilot.”

“You still can be.” The Sith paused and listened to a series of beeps from her comm unit. “Excellent work, Teeseven. Keep at it.”

Pattik took a brief moment to breathe deeply and relax. He would need his mind and reflexes ready for whatever came next.

Which apparently was another call from Koth.

“HOPE YOU’RE NOT TOO CLOSE!”

“What’s happening?” Lana’s voice tightened as what sounded like blasterfire erupted from her wrist unit.

“NOTHING I CAN’T HANDLE, BUT WE NEED TO MOVE THE PICK-UP!”

“We don’t have time for this!”

Koth’s voice got snippity. “Well if I land now, I’ll be shot to pieces! So just think of it as a personal favor to me, huh? Duck through another tower and I’ll find you.”

Pattik raised his comm. “Watch your back out there.”

“My number-one pastime these days- Always love our little excursions, Lana. Back with you shortly!” The comms beeped as he ended the call from his end.

Stress lines around Lana’s eyes deepened as she impatiently tapped one boot against the wall.

Fiika stared at her in confusion. “Are you two… What about Theron.”

Lana gaped, incredulous for a moment. “I… I’ll pretend that’s not your greatest concern at the moment.”

Pattik sensed… Pain from Lana. Over Theron. Something to bring up in private to see if she was alright; and certainly not in front of Fiika. The girl was too… exuberant over that topic. Sometimes things needed a delicate word.

 

* * *

 

Vaylin stared at the security console. They’d been here, and one of them wasn’t well. Probably that girl her brother had been fawning after. She’d been sick with something and he’d saved her.

How romantic.

More like how foolish of him. She could have escaped, killed him, or worse, broken her dear brother’s heart. Or whatever remained of it after Thexan died.

Vaylin sighed. “No…” she she drawled, and faced the door.

Those outlanders wouldn’t escape. Not from her.

And oh, would Arcann be furious if his little crush escaped.

 

* * *

 

Pattik steadied his emotions as the lift continued down.

“What?” Fiika asked, interrupting his thoughts.

He sighed softly and opened his eyes to see Lana smiling faintly as she shook her head.

“It’s… good to see the both of you,” she finally said.

“I have a million questions right now.” Pattik stepped forward as the lift began to slow. The doors opened up to an office space. Sterile black and white walls were separated by enormous windows that gave a view of a graceful city. Golden light fell to the floor in a patchwork of patterns.

“I know.” Lana moved past him, lightsaber drawn as windows across the room shattered. “The answers will have to wait.”

Skytroopers landed and opened fire at them.

Pattik shielded Fiika in the lift as Lana leapt to the droids and took care of them. “Come on,” he ordered, and hauled her next to him. He sensed the fear of the people in neighboring rooms. He’d have to be more careful to not deflect a bolt to them.

Fiika stooped and picked up a Skytrooper’s blaster rifle. “Alright, I’m good.”

They followed Lana up a flight of stairs and into the office’s lobby.

Holograms adorned shelves in red and blue. Pattik didn’t recognize the faces. He paused as the Force surged, and he spun, lightsaber slicing through the Skytrooper advancing towards him.

It clattered into pieces.

He joined Lana and Fiika at the door.

“We need to get across that bridge,” Lana said flatly.

The bridge wasn’t that long; perhaps the size of three huttball arenas laid longwise together. The tiles were gold, and in the center was a beautiful planter brimming with colorful flowers. And standing on the bridge was a Zakuul Walker. Tall, cannons trained on the office building, heavily armored. Everything about it advertised it as lethal and efficient.

Fiika was leaning against the doorframe, sweat beading her brow.

She would be useless in this fight.

Pattik nodded at Lana and they leapt together at the walker.

He rolled under the legs and started slicing through the armoring to get to the wires and pneumatics. Overhead, from the sounds of it, Lana was standing on top of the cockpit and trying to carve her way to the control panel

A foot came crashing down, narrowly missing his own.

Pattik changed tactics and climbed up a leg to bury his lightsaber up to the hilt in the cockpit’s floor.

The walker’s engine dwindled.

Lana dropped to the ground as the walker toppled over. She stared at it for a moment as Fiika jogged to them. “Fight through it, Fiika.”

The girl’s face was nearly purple.

Pattik sensed her about to join the walker on the ground. He picked her up and slung her over his shoulder.

Lana led the way into the corporate tower across the bridge.

 

* * *

 

Vaylin sneered as she watched the outlanders enter the factory.

If they went in there, she wouldn’t be the one to catch them.

And she wanted to be the one to catch them, specifically the girl Arcann was so fond of.

_Did they even look where they were going?_

“Not the way I would have picked.” She paused and considered the district power core on her left.

The miniature sun swirled.

_Now if I took that out… I could catch them!_

Vaylin reached out to the power core and built the Force around it. All it took was a mighty tug, and it was unstable. The factory would evacuate, and she’d have her prey.

 

* * *

 

The floor lurched under his feet.

“What’s happening?” Fiika mumbled over his shoulder.

Lana Force-pushed a wave of skytroopers out of the door and over the edge of the bridge. “It’s Vaylin. She’ll bring the whole city crashing on us if she has to.”

The comm units cracked and Koth’s voice shot through the speaker. “Lana? Are my scanner glitched? Did you just charge headfirst into a Skytrooper droid factory?”

“I was arse first,” Fiika mumbled.

As if on cue to Koth’s words, displays set into the walls light up as the droids were activated.

Pattik set Fiika upright against the nearest wall. She slipped down until she was sitting on the floor, blaster rifle aimed at the advancing Skytroopers.

Lana took up a defensive stance. “Vaylin’s almost on us. We’re out of options.”

“This is just like Altair Three all over again!” Koth yelled.

Pattik started towards the advancing Skytroopers. The last thing he needed was Koth distracting them with talk as they fought their way through. “We can handle a few droids!”

Blaster bolts shot past him from behind, drilling into the eye sockets of the nearest droid.

Fiika.

Pattik dodged the droids’ fire and stabbed the blind one through the powercore. He ducked under an arm and slashed through the next droid.

The Force surged.

He jumped over the small crowd and landed behind them. Pattik danced away from blaster fire and continued cutting the Skytroopers down until they were gone. Sweat dripped down his nose. He waved over at Lana and Fiika. “Come on.”

The Sith helped the girl stand up.

Fiika was huddled into herself, shaking. She needed real medical help.

Lana pulled one of her arms over her shoulder and helped her make her way over to Pattik. “Koth,” Lana asked into her com. “What’s your status?”

The sounds of blasterfire answered. “Hostiles on my tail still, but I’ve got tricks they haven’t seen yet- WHOA!”

The comm fell silent.

“Koth?” Lana whispered. “KOTH!”

“That one they’ve seen before!”

Pattik sighed in relief. He was alive, and okay. Lana looked to the ceiling, eyes shut and lips pursed.

“Got to go!” Koth snarled as a grinding sound started up in the background. “I’ll keep my ears on!”

“Well, I’m sure it’s nothing serious.” Lana helped Fiika up the stairs towards the door.

Pattik brought up the rear, watching for more Skytroopers as they moved through the corridors.

Fiika was moving slow despite Lana’s urgent speed.

They passed enormous rooms of storage bins, hallways, offices.

When they reached the next set of lifts, Koth came back on the comms.

“What happened to the reactor? That wasn’t you, was it?”

Lana hit the button for the lifts. “Vaylin happened.”

“Vaylin did that? Guess you were right about your outlander.”

“’C-course she was.” Fiika stammered. She stumbled away from Lana and fell over, curling up into a ball and shaking uncontrollably. “I- I’m so-so cold.”

Lana dropped down next to her. “No fever. She’s freezing.”

“My guess is the carbonite poisoning that the medical droid mentioned.” Pattik selected the factory floor for the lift. “It shouldn’t last this long.”

“It’s not hibernation sickness. Carbonite poisoning…” Lana shook her head. “I’ve heard of it. It’s from having an open wound for the carbonite to enter through when frozen. If they’re not frozen correctly…” The Sith tilted Fiika’s head and traced a gloved finger over a brighter scar than the rest. “Her mouth must’ve been bleeding.”

Fiika remained shivering on the floor.

“We just have to get her to Koth’s ship.” Pattik stooped and picked her up. Fiika was shaking.

She turned into him, eyes squeezed shut and tears forming. “Th-Thank you,” she mumbled.

Pattik nodded to Lana and they exited the lift to the factory floor.

Skytroopers in various stages of assembly hung from clamps, soaring by on assembly belts. They stopped every few seconds and sparks would fly out above. The glass floor let him see the hundreds of droids hanging below, and past that…

He didn’t want to fall off the platform.

Lana cleared the way to the door across the factory, red lightsaber leaving behind glowing slashes in destroyed droids.

“Reactor Instability detected,” came a cool voice over the speakers. “Emergency evacuation in effect. Evacuate the tower. Achieve minimum safe distance.”

They had to get out of the tower.

Pattik lurched to his left and narrowly avoided a Skytrooper.

Lana’s lightsaber sliced through it.

“Come on,” she said.

Fiika shifted in his arms. “You’re not as warm as him…” she murmured.

_As who?_

Pattik ran after Lana into another lift. They soared upward, their shadows thrown up against the lift doors, the reactor glowing ominously behind them.

He didn’t want to look at it. The Force was telling him to leave this place, to get away from the reactor, find a safe distance away on Koth’s ship.

“I-I’m good now.” Fiika wriggled out of his arms and stood on her own two feet next to him. She had her arms wrapped tightly around her.

Pattik turned back to the shadows on the door, feeling the lift begin to slow.

Odd.

Fiika’s shadow was bigger than theirs.

_Probably the angle of the reactor’s unstable light coming from below._

The lift stopped. The doors opened.

The control room was chaos as technicians ran around from terminal to vidscreen to diagnostic displays back to the terminals.

“It’s going to rupture- Sound the alar-EVERYBODY OUT! EVER- Ten blocks in every direct-“

“Catastrophic reactor failure imminent,” said the cool voice over the speakers.

“TEN BLOCKS- gonna rupture!- the alarm- OUT!”

Lana shook her head. “There’s nothing we can do here. Let’s go.”

Pattik paused and watched the reactor slowly expanding. She was right. The Force couldn’t contain the blast or stabilize it. They had to get away before it failed.

“DON’T YOU DARE!” shouted Koth over the comms.

Lana must’ve not turned hers off.

“IS THAT THING BLOWS, IT’S TAKING A WHOLE LOT OF PEOPLE WITH IT.” There was static, and then Koth’s voice was more controlled, tighter. “You can still shut it down. Half the city will go dark, but the countless thousands who live and work here will have a chance.”

Pattik opened his mouth to explain that neither the Jedi nor Sith could contain an explosion like that or stop it from happening. But-

Fiika.

The girl was sprinting across the room towards a broken window. She grabbed a technician and stole some things off his belt.

“FIIKA!”

She leapt out of the window, aiming something at a sensory array. A cable shot out and attached to the antennae.

Pattik and Lana leapt after her.

Fiika landed first on the reactor catwalks. She started towards a control station.

Pattik thudded onto the catwalk, Lana a half-second later. She reached out with a hand and yanked Fiika back a couple feet with the Force.

“Do you see?” The Sith pointed to the growing reactor core in fury “This is how far they’ll go to stop us. We need to get offworld now!”

Fiika stared back, an unfamiliar look of resistance to Lana in her eyes. “I’m going to fix this,” she snarled. The girl spun on her heel and took off towards the control console.

Pattik ran after her, Lana ahead of him and a fierce look on her face as she spat scathingly, “your slumber must’ve had quite the effect!”

“I lost my family, I’m not going to sit by and let it happen to others!”

Pattik pushed the shame down in his belly, knowing he should have considered saving the innocent. But if they didn’t escape… would more be hurt? If saving these few damned the rest…

“We’re going to die!” Lana roared as the air pressure shifted.

“Go wait for Koth,” Fiika fired back.

“I’m not leaving!” Pattik stood next to Fiika. He would help save these people. It was too late to turn back.

Lana’s lips formed a thin line. “Fine.”

Fiika fussed with the console’s controls. “I need both of you to go disconnect the power conduits from each sensor array.” She pointed to the pair of antennae towers nearby. “Hurry!”

Pattik didn’t see if Lana listened, he knew she would. He force-leapt over the catwalks to the array and tore off the covering to bury his lightsaber into the conduits.

The sensor’s lights dimmed.

It was disconnected.

He turned and saw Lana with the other array as it’s lights twinkled out.

When he returned to the control station, Fiika’s face was covered in sweat and she was shaking again. She was panicking as she repeatedly slammed her fist down on the console. “OY! WORK!”

Lana grabbed her arm. “We need to leave!”

The screen turned green. “Relax, it’s going to be fine.” Fiika clicked a different series of keys.

The panel on the side exploded.

“Relaxing didn’t work so well. Now what do you propose to do?”

“Whatever I can!” snapped Fiika.

Pattik waved his hand to catch Lana’s attention. _Calm down_ , he mouthed at her. Fiika would not do well with a Sith screaming in her ear.

The girl hurried around the panel to the direct feed to the power core.

“Catastrophic reactor failure imminent,” the cool voice reminded them.

“Enough,” declared Lana. “I’m taking you with me, whether you like it or not!” She gripped Fiika’s arm and started dragging her towards the lift back up to the factory’s control room.

Fiika leveled her stolen Skytrooper rifle at the direct input tubes and fired.

A minor explosion rocked the catwalks.

“Reactor shutdown sequence initiated. Warning: Grid integrity at risk.”

Pattik ran a hand down his face and grinned. Lana looked like she was trying to swallow someone sour. Fiika was smiling wanly.

“Damn your stubbornness!” Lana hissed. “You just gambled the fate of the galaxy!”

“I took a calculated risk. It paid off.”

The Sith and the agent stared at each other for a moment before Lana looked away first, smile hinting at her lips. “You engaged in an unsuccessful attempt to kill us both, is what you did.”

The pair of them broke out into laughter.

_It must be some Imperial inside joke._

“Come on.” Fiika nodded her head towards the lift, arms back around herself to stay warm.

“Unbelieveable,” Lana stated, shaking her head. “You… I can’t believe I missed you.” She smiled fondly at Fiika as the lift took them upwards.

“Can’t believe this is the second time you’ve rescued me.”

“I am currently regretting the first time.”

Pattik cleared his throat. “We still need to get to Koth.” He stepped out into the control room.

“There.” Lana pointed to a small lift in the corner. “It will take us to the maintenance catwalks.”

 

* * *

 

They stepped out of the lift in time to watch the lights go out in the surrounding towers.

“Primary grid shutdown protocols are in effect,” went the cool voice.

A moment later and the lift’s lights switched off.

Fiika shuddered and looked around. “The d-dark should help our escape.”

“Not as well as a massive explosion would have,” Lana added as she lifted her comm. “But it will do. Koth, where are you?”

Faint static echoed from the comm. Koth’s end was on, but he wasn’t speaking.

“Koth?”

“Ran into sort of a… maintenance issue.”

Pattik had seen the expression on Lana’s face before, right before she smacked her face into her datapad after Fiika had managed to ruin yet another Walker. He sensed that Koth had just crashed a ship, and it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. “How bad is it?” he asked.

“It’s not great, but we’re on top of it. Give us.. three minutes?” Blaster fire followed his suggestion. “Hang tight. Hope you’re not scared of the dark.”

“You do what you have to.” Pattik frowned as Fiika leaned over, shaking again. “We’ll be waiting.”

Lana led Fiika away from the lift. “Let’s find a place and lie low, and-

“Not an option,” Pattik interrupted as Skytroopers appeared in the sky above. One of them caught sight of them.

_Three minutes. Right._

 

* * *

 

The skytroopers had stopped.

Pattik braced himself on his knees, breathing hard as he tried to catch his breath.

_How long until I’m recovered from hibernation?_

Lana caught up to him, once again with one of Fiika’s arms over her shoulder.

“So much for the cover-of-darkness theory,” Pattik said flatly.

Lana’s frown deepened. “Vaylin is nothing if not persistent.” She hit her comm and paused as the sounds of battle. “Koth… is that blasterfire?”

“Almost there. Three more minutes.”

“You-” Lana stopped mid-sentence and slowly dropped Fiika. The girl’s eyes were staring in horror at something behind Pattik.

He turned.

A pair of men in heavy gold armor were approaching. They seemed familiar… Pattik thought back to when he’d been captured and aboard Prince Arcann’s ship. These were the guards.

“Koth, we don’t have three more minutes,” Lana whispered.

“Two and a half!”

Pattik shut off the comms. If they were going to fight these guards, a distraction was the last thing they needed. He drew in the Force, centering himself.

The bigger of the guards stepped forward and spoke in a booming voice. “Outlanders!” He pointed to Fiika leaning against the railing. “You are guilty of assassinating the Immortal Emperor and evading imprisonment.” He went to Pattik. “You are guilty of attacking and wounding Emperor Arcann, and evading imprisonment.” The guard stopped at Lana. “And you are guilty of freeing the convicted!”

The other guard pompously held out his arms. “We demand your immediate surrender!”

Lana shifted on her toes. “Knights of Zakuul. A policing body under Vaylin’s charge. Force-Sensitives.”

“We need to gain the upper hand.” Pattik took a deep breath, watching them. “They must have some tactical disadvantage.”

“Not that I’ve encountered. They’re well trained, extremely competent.”

The bigger Knight crossed his arms. “Stop talking and disarm, and surrender at once.”

Pattik could sense his anger. Perhaps making him ever more upset would lead to mistakes? “I do not answer to your demands! Nor Vaylin’s, nor Arcann’s. Are we clear?”

The Knights had bristled at his lack of Arcann’s title.

The big one activated his lightsaber. “Then you give us no choice. Take them by force!”

Pattik charged him, leaving the smaller one to Lana. His lightsaber clashed against the Knight’s, and he used the momentum to twist around him.

The Knight’s elbow met Pattik’s nose and he stumbled away. His next parry was clumsy.

“Lower your weapon and admit defeat!” the Knight hissed.

Pattik gathered the Force and pushed the Knight back a few feet. Lana switched targets and leapt towards the big Knight.

Pattik joined her, hoping the smaller Knight would try and protect his companion.

Instead he paused, hand on his helmet as if listening to orders. And then he charged towards Fiika.

The girl was waiting for him.

She barreled directly at the Knight, confusing him. As he skidded to a stop, she dropped into a slide and rammed into his leg, boots making a direct hit on his ankle.

Pattik winced at the flare of pain that echoed through the Force.

And then he was thrown forward.

He whirled back towards the Knight and Lana, no longer distracted by Fiika. She could handle herself long enough for them to take care of the big Knight.

Lana threw lightning at the Knight, not fazing him in the slightest.

Pattik watched his footwork and saw and opening. He blazed forward, putting as much power as he dared into his jabs and swings of the lightsaber.

The Knight was unprepared for the sheer brutality of the attack. He was pushed back towards the railing until he gave up and Force-leapt away to a ledge a few levels above. “Tanek!”

The other Knight didn’t follow him. He had Fiika’s arm twisted behind her back.

Lana growled and raised her hand, eyes bright with anger.

Tanek the Knight tensed up, hands flying to his throat as he was slowly lifted into the air.

“You Knights, you’re never properly taught to channel your anger,” she hissed. With a flick of her wrist, the Knight’s neck snapped. She spoke to Pattik. “That won’t be the last Knight we encounter.”

He watched the bigger Knight run away across the upper catwalks. Something told him that they’d meet again. “That’s because Arcann is too afraid to face us himself, as he should be.” Pattik had bested him in battle once, separating his arm from him. But the Prince’s screams of pain had made him take pity on the boy. Now he was no longer a boy, and Pattik would not make that same mistake again.

“No offense, but the only person Arcann ever feared was his father.” Fiika crossed her arms tightly across her chest, shivering again. “Now let’s find Koth.”

They headed towards an adjoining catwalk.

Lana stopped after a couple steps. “Vaylin.”

The three of them slowly spun around.

Vaylin indeed.

The woman in black smiled sadistically at the trio, a whole battalion of Skytroopers landing behind her. She playfully tapped her chin. “I don’t know you…” she crooned to Lana. “But you… I’ve seen you. I took you to be frozen. I remember your horns.” Her focus slid from Pattik to Fiika. “Oh, I’m not supposed to hurt you. Permanently, at least.” She smiled wickedly.

Lana activated her lightsaber. “I… I’ll hold her off as long as I can. The first chance you two get- go.” She took up a defensive stance, jaw locked with resignation.

“I’m not leaving you behind, My Lord.” Fiika took her place beside Lana, shoulders stiff with determination. “I swore to stand alongside you.”

Pattik moved next to Fiika. “And I will not go down without a fight. It is not our time, I sense it.”

Lana shook her head. “Both of you are impossible.”

Vaylin cackled. “How cute.” She studied her lightsaber and returned it to her belt. “No… I won’t need that.”

The Force flared, and Pattik yanked Fiika down to the floor, Lana a split-second behind.

“HEAD’S DOWN, EYES OPEN, RUN LIKE HELL!” Koth roared.

The hum of engines sliced through the air as a small transport rose up behind them. The lasercannons swiveled and pumped, firing at Vaylin and her gaggle of Skytroopers.

Pattik didn’t see what happened, he bolted for the ramp as it was lowered. He Force-leapt and dropped into a roll as his boots hit the durasteel.

Sounds of another pair of boots told him Lana was on board, probably with Fiika in tow.

He pushed past a golden droid and found a man with hair twisted into spikes grinning as he fired the cannons.

“Koth?”

“Yep. Introductions later.” Koth aimed the cannons at a figure under a durasteel shield.

Vaylin.

Something hit the transport and the ship bucked to the right.

A scream came from the ramp.

Pattik looked around to see Lana standing alone on the other side of Koth.

“Fiika,” they said in sync.

Together they raced to the ramp.

The gold droid had Fiika in it’s arms. “Declaration: meatbags can’t fly.”

“Get her inside!” Lana’s words were almost whipped away by the wind.

Pattik nodded at the droid, following it up into the cockpit.

“Hang on!” Koth yelled. “I’m going to punch it.” Another blast shoot the transport. “Got a little engine trouble.” A small explosion echoed from the left wing, black smoke billowing from a gaping hole. “Okay, a lot,” corrected Koth.

Fiika shook off the droid’s arms. “Let me pilot.”

“I got it.” Koth swore under his breath as displays lit up on the controls. “Guns locked on!”

“You’re- Give me the controls.”

Koth smacked her hand away.

Lana stepped between them. “Just get us out of here.”

“Trying to!” Koth snapped. “Come on… come on…”

Beeping and chirps came from Lana’s comm. She smiled. “Teeseven says the guns are offline.”

“Whoo!”

Pattik watched the security canons on the sides of the towers turned back to their inactive alignment. He sat down in one of the crew seats, relieved to sit back and relax for a moment.

“Thank you, Teeseven,” Lana said gratefully. “We owe you one.”

“Yeah, really,” Koth agreed.

The gold droid raised his hands. “Lament. No one has thanked me.”

Fiika shook in her seat, stiff and fingers stuffed in her armpits for warmth. “Thank you for saving me. I appreciate it.”

“Humility: it was nothing.”

The girl traded a confused look with Pattik. He shrugged.

“Salutations,” continued the droid. “Greetings. I am HK-55, fully armed for combat and at your command.”

“See to Fiika. She’s… not well.” Pattik gestured to her. “Carbonite poisoning.”

HK-55 turned to look at her.

“Told you we’d succeed,” Lana stated as she took the co-pilot seat.

Koth scoffed. “You left out the part where I lose my ship.”

Pattik leaned closer and tapped the Sith’s shoulder to her attention. “Lana… I don’t know if you’ve heard yet, but Emperor Valkorian… he killed Darth Marr.”

Reluctance overtook Lana’s face as she traded a look with Koth. “Yes…” she started slowly. “Marr’s absence has been felt by many.”

“For quite some time, right?” Koth flicked a couple switches on the controls. “It’s going to be a short trip. Might want to start briefing your friends here on what’s been going on for the past five years.”

Five years.

No, he would have sensed differences- The Order- The Republic-

Five years.

Pattik found himself sitting on the floor in a daze.

_Five years._

 

* * *

 

Vaylin smirked at the new gathering of Knights. “Much better.” They could spread out further than the skytroopers and follow clues. “Are you awaiting instructions?”

The Knights hurried away, stepping over the destroyed Skytroopers.

That transport couldn’t have gotten far.

She sighed as her holocommunicator started beeping.

Arcann again.

He had no patience.

Vaylin plastered on a sunny smile as a tiny blue hologram of her brother appeared.

“The outlanders?”

“Gone,” she said sweetly.

He froze for a moment. “Gone?” Arcann growled, still a statue.

“Yep, they’re gone.”

He clasped his hands behind his back, pissed. “I don’t care what it takes,” he declared. “I want her found.”

The holocall ended and Vaylin couldn’t help herself. She giggled.

_Her_ found.

Her dear big brother, the Emperor of the Eternal Empire and Commander of the Eternal Fleet; crushing on a nobody pilot and sticking her safety above the need to capture the outlanders. He certainly had it bad, all love-sick when he had visited her in carbonite.

No, no, standing around and enjoying his torment wouldn’t bring the pilot back, nor was it as amusing as the alternative.

Vaylin signaled for her speederbike.

She would witness this debacle first-hand at his side.

And she took off for the Spire.


	5. Pain and Gain in the Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's pain and gain in the rain. Specifically, rain in the Zakuulan swamp while they search for a way offworld.

She was being frozen from the inside out. Lungs filling with ice that couldn’t be coughed up. Blood turned to slush. Teeth were ice cubes. It was like brain freeze throughout her whole body, just… worse.

Her eyes focused on the gold was swirling around her.

Cold gold.

Fiika screamed as pain erupted in her leg, burning through her veins.

“Observation: Master Allos’ lungs are powerful.”

Fire turned the ice to steam, blood to a boil, teeth to embers. She was going to be burned alive inside her own skin.

Calm hands pushed her back down as an explosion rocked the ship.

_I don’t want to die on fire._

“Hold still, Spook.”

“I- I… I’m too hot.”

“Give it a moment,” Lord Beniko instructed.

Fiika focused on the Sith next to her. “I-”

“Breathe,” said Master Pattik across the ship. He was strapped in tight to seat, eyes squeezed shut and looking at little green.

She took a deep breath of air and it filled her lungs with heat. Fiika rolled onto her side, coughing. Slowly coolness spread from her leg, up to her chest and arms. “I… I feel better.”

As it to draw attention away from her, the ship bucked and sparks flew from a panel, setting fire to the cot she’d just rolled off during the bouncing.

“GET THAT FIRE OUT!” roared Koth from the pilot’s seat. Fiika stumbled to stand behind him, watching the Zakuul undercity whizz by.  The spires’ bases were enormous, and they had to be, considering that the spires themselves reached beyond the atmosphere. Traffic was in perfectly organized into lines. And it was dark. No sunlight permeated this far down with the sheer amount of structures above.

They exited the city and…

_Arcann said swamps._

More like an endless swamp before them. No other city base was in sight.

Smoke started to fill the cockpit.

Lord Beniko stomped down on the fire as it tried to travel across the ship. “Did you think to take any extinguishers with you when you stole this ship?”

“Blast it,” Koth swore. He leapt out of the seat and tore open an access hatch, pausing to look at Fiika. “You, you’re up. See what you can do with this thing.”

Fiika buckled herself into the pilot seat and flicked on the flaps to slow their descent into the fog. With the engine sparking and multiple controls malfunctioning, it would be a miracle to decently land the transport, let alone fly it.

Koth let out a few choice words. “We’re going to crash. Harnesses on, everybody.”

The transport groaned and a very large piece of something off the back fell off.

No one said anything.

“We lost… the entire rear compartment.” Fiika lowered the landing gear for more drag, pushed the flaps out to their limit to slow them even more, and slowly lowered the transport.

Instead the transport took a nose-dive.

She yanked up on the controls.

The readouts said the ground was coming up in 50 yards…

Fiika angled the ship upward.

40…

It leveled out but was dropping in altitude.

30…

They were still going far too fast than she liked.

20…

“Brace for impact!” she bellowed.

10…

Tree branches whipped against the viewports. The ground appeared, and-

Fiika was thrown against her harness as the transport bounced and skidded and splashed its way to a stop. Smoke was still coming off the cot’s mattress. Water was dripping in through a crack in the viewport. She twisted in her seat.

Lord Beniko was pale, Master Pattik as green as a Gamorrean who’d eaten bad seafood, Koth taking a moment to breathe, and the gold droid, HK-55 was-

The droid had his arms up. “Celebration: We survived.”

Koth shot of his seat, shaking out his limbs. “That’s two more shuttles you owe me,” he said to Lord Beniko.

“Since I crashed this, I should get reimbursed.” Fiika unbuckled the harness and turned around, smiling smugly. “Lord Beniko, the usual request.”

“No,” said Master Pattik and Lord Beniko in unison.

They fell silent as they exited the flaming ship. Lord Beniko continued, “nobody even owned this one.” She offered Master Pattik an arm as he stepped down. “It really shouldn’t count.”

“It- “started Koth.

Fiika stepped out into the chilling swamp and batted a bug away from her face. “Quiet,” she hissed. “There could be anything out here.”

The man raised a dark eyebrow, eyes glittering with a challenge. “Well, there’s wild animals, angry exiles, ungrateful rescue-ees- “

“The point is a good one,” interrupted Master Pattik.”

Koth held up his hands in defeat. “Fine, fine.”

Sounds of the swamp filled the silence. Bugs chirping, wingmaws in the distance screeching, an echo of a deep roar and an answering one. The fire from the transport popped.

No one wanted to discuss what to do.

How did they get off Zakuul now? No ship, no way back into the city, and in all possible likeliness, Emperor Arcann was sending Knights and Skytroopers after them. Lord Beniko had said he’d kept her and Master Pattik like trophies.

He probably wanted them back.

She shivered as a flash of cold washed over her.

Lord Beniko and Koth were staring at the remains of the transport. The words ‘fried engine’ unfortunately carried through the damp air.

Master Pattik was silent, perfect picture of calm as he stared out at the swamp. “Anything on your sensors?” he asked HK-55.

“Confirmation: I’ve detected a large metallic object nearby.” The droid clicked for a couple moments. “Analysis suggests a technological construct, but there are no energy readings.”

Koth came up behind them, wiping oil off his hands with his coat. “Whatever it is, it’s got better chances of flying that this thing. Engine’s fried to a crisp.” He sighed and looked around in distaste, buttoning his coat up against the cold fog.

“Skytroopers won’t be far behind us.” Master Pattik glanced to the sky.

Lord Beniko followed his line of sight. “We need to hide evidence of our landing.”

Koth slung his rifle around his chest and headed towards the wreckage left in their wake. “I’ll scavenge whatever fell off and hide it, you bury!” He waved at them as he disappeared into the murk.

“Just like Arron Prime,” Lana muttered under her breath.

“Enthusiasm: shall we investigate the technological object? I believe I can guide us to its location?”

Master Pattik nodded to the droid. “Very well.” He glanced at Fiika. “Are you coming?”

“I… I think I ought to stay where it’s warmer.”

The Jedi nodded and wadded into the muck with the droid.

Fiika swatted another bug away as she stepped out of Lord Beniko’s path. “I get the sense you and Koth have been working together for a while.”

“Long enough.” Lord Beniko raised her hands and lifted the carcass of the transport up over the patch of dirt it rested upon. Oil dripped and bits of hull rained down on the mud. “I know you have more questions than answers.”

“That’s the understatement of the years, My Lord.”

Lord Beniko dropped the ship gently down into the swamp. Water rushed around it, gurgling into the cracks and holes, until it sunk before the surface.

In the distance came another deep bellow of some creature.

Fiika rubbed her hands together to stay warm.

“We should keep moving. Let’s find Koth and follow Pat. I promise,” Lana said softly. “I’ll tell you everything I can soon as we’re safe.”

_Everything you can._

“I… Five years, My Lord. Five years. I…” Fiika forced a half-hearted grin. “At least I don’t have to explain anything to my family.”

“You don’t have to act as though- “

“Please… I… I have to find a bright side to it.” Fiika squeezed her eyes shut, fighting away the tears. “Let’s, um, let’s find Koth.”

* * *

 

The cold was back in her fingers after a couple hours. It was also from the knees down, but that was more from sloshing through the swamp and less of whatever she’d been injected with wearing off. But regardless, it was eating away at her again, chilled fingers that couldn’t be warmed up from stuffing them in her armpits or breathing on them. Shivers were started to prickle at her spine.

She’d given up on trying to avoid the swamp water.

And the fog. It’d sank into her clothes and hair, making everything damp and mildly uncomfortable. Alright, uncomfortable, but she was not one to complain.

Yet.

The odd phosphorescent fungi, though… Fiika did not recognize it from any of her training.

Koth avoided the glowing fauna with a good ten feet. She followed his lead.

Fiika wasn’t exactly sure what to think of him. He’d seemed plenty talkative, almost a chatterbox on the commas during their rescue, and now… Silence. Altogether a rather curious combination. And… she was loathe to admit it, because it was the most inappropriate thing to notice, but Koth was decidedly good-looking.

At least her ability to like someone at terrible times had remained intact from the carbonite freezing. But that singular fact of his attractiveness wouldn’t change anything if he was going to remain bitter and sassy to her.

Lord Beniko held up a hand and they stopped, going completely still.

Overheard flew a swarm of wingmaws. On cue they all shrieked. Rather loudly.

A moment later, and they continued on. Lord Beniko had a datapad that showed HK-55 and Master Pattik’s trail.

A trail that’d taken them past a deceased Gundart, multiple dead mawvorrs, and creatures with ugly bulbous bodies and glowing red eyes.

Fiika had already discovered the hard way what the egg sacs of the odd bulb creatures looked like. She’d stood under one by accident and Koth had hauled her out of the way as the mother of the nest leapt down with intent to snack. He’d then fired his assault rifle into the nest, cracking it open.

Ten of thousands little ugly bulb creatures had poured out.

Lord Beniko hadn’t liked the pair of them running off and cursing, leaving her behind.

Fiika had taken great care to watch what was above her since then.

Another roar, not as far in the distance as before.

She plodded on behind Lord Beniko and Koth, climbing over the tree roots and minding the glowing mushrooms off to her right.

“Not too far ahead. They’ve stopped,” Lord Beniko announced, relief in her voice.

As if on cue, the swamp leveled out in a gully. Around them rose dark cliffs, shadows of creatures patrolling the edges and the world grew silent. Chills were erupting down her spine again. A very close roar tore through the trees.

They skirted the massive Gundart and its equally massive cave.

Fiika heard the voices before she saw them

Master Pattik and HK-55 were studying a ship that made the gundart they’d just seen look like one of the gnats buzzing through the air.

“Confirmation. Yes, Master, a closer scan suggests that this object has been here for several centuries.”

“Centuries?” Koth rushed forward, incredulous. “Of all the junk out here…” He turned to give HK-55 a droll look. “You had to find the antique.”

Fiika couldn’t disagree.

Rust, moss, and decaying animal waste coated the hull over the peeling paint. In some places the hull was gone, replaced with gaping holes or treetops. Vines were draped over the ship like bunting in its first voyage out of port.

It looked like it was a couple centuries late to a scrapyard.

“Observation: Visible design elements do not match any from Zakuulan culture, antique or modern.”

Fiika watched Koth’s eyes go wide and his jaw drop.

“Not from Zakuul…” he whispered, voice reverent. “Could it be?” He stepped forward, fingers gently caressing the ship as if he were afraid to trust his eyes that it was real.

Lord Beniko traded a look with Fiika. “He doesn’t overthink things,” she said by way of explanation.

“Haha!” Koth danced away from the ship, hope and awe on his face. “Do you have any idea what this is?!”

“Thick hull…” Master Pattik muttered thoughtfully. “A few good spots for weapons… A destroyer?”

_More like a combat-outfitted frigate if we’re going off size._

“This is the Gravestone!” Koth’s voice climbed in volume as he spoke. “This was the only ship that went up against the Eternal Fleet and won. Do you have any idea how long people have been looking for this thing?!”

Lana sighed as if this was a regular occurrence. “And we just happened to stumble upon it?” She made a little head motion as if to say ‘again?’

“You said this ship went up against the Eternal Fleet. But it’s rusting in a swamp while the Fleet is still around.”

“The Fleet is even older than Valkorian, maybe even older than Zakuul,” Koth snapped, frowning at Fiika’s statement. “The battles happened centuries ago. Nobody knows the details of the whole war.”

“So- “Fiika started.

“But every story talks about the Gravestone.” He didn’t look like he was going to be interrupted. “One ship with the firing power to take on the Eternal Fleet… This is fate,” he declared. Koth pointed at Lord Beniko, a wild light in his eyes. “We get you outlanders, find exactly the weapon we need.” He pointed at the ship. “We’re going to win this thing, Lana. It’s destiny.”

Lord Beniko looked like she was choosing her words carefully. “It’s certainly no coincidence… But destiny? I think there’s something else going on here.”

Fiika stepped away towards Master Pattik so no one would see her eye roll.

Master Pattik caught her eye and nodded in understanding. “Destiny or not, this is an opportunity.”

“Let’s have a look inside.” Koth hit the door button and wasn’t discouraged by the grinding noise. He pointed at HK-55. “Help me open this.”

Together they hauled open the door.

“Assessment: nearby signs of animal activity suggest local predators may be using this wreck s a nesting ground. Caution is advised.”

“Well that’s rather encouraging.” Fiika patted her empty holsters.

Koth handed her a derringer from his boot.

The handle was lukewarm.

Lord Beniko stepped into the corridor, lightsaber held high to illuminate the unflattering sight of animal waste and the rotting skeletons of old meals. “Let’s split up, deal with any wildlife. Then regroup to plan our next move.” She gestured for Master Pattik to go with her.

HK-55 started down his own path.

Fiika smiled politely and held out her arm. “After you, Koth. You’ve got the bigger gun.”

He lead the way down a hallway, rifle raised and boots silent.

Quiet whispers of things shifted about in the darkness.

And Fiika realized something.

A rather unfortunate result of entering the beasts’ nesting ground was that the beasts knew every inch of the decrepit ship. And from Fiika’s point of view, they knew every little nook and cranny and the best way to attack from said nooks and crannies.

Her and Koth made it perhaps ten feet into the hallway before the rustlings of the creatures became agitated.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this…” Fiika adjusted her grip on the derringer and wished for her daggers. Or to have a larger blaster.

They moved deeper into the darkness. At the end of the hallway light filtered down from a hole in the hull, reflecting off a puddle of water.

The pair of them didn’t make it to the light before the attack of the wingmaws commenced.

“GOT IT!” Koth yelped as he ducked. Fiika blasted the leading wingmaw and spun, expecting another to be swooping at her.

She was right.

Koth fired at it, and she moved to watch his back.

The wingmaws were vicious.  Unrelenting. It akin to being attacked by oversized bugs with teeth instead of stingers. Only worse. So perhaps it wasn’t akin to anything but being attack by wingmaws.

“Mind your head!” Fiika snapped off a couple shots into the craziness, barely able to hear anything in the wild screeching and hissing and flapping.

“With what?” Koth roared. A wingmaw with blaster holes in its wings dropped onto his shoulders, screeching and biting at the sudden lack in altitude.

“That!”

Koth shook it off and kept firing.

Fiika continued doing what she could with the little bite-sized blaster.

“Move!” Koth pushed her towards the end of the hallway. They sloshed through the water, blasters firing at the small cloud of animals.

“Tally: Sixteen,” came HK-55’s voice over Koth’s wrist comm.

Fiika dodged another wingmaw.

“Seventeen,” said the droid, followed by echoes of an explosion. “Twenty-two,” was declared in a sing-song voice.

Koth let off a serious of rapid-fire bolts and dropped the rest of the wingmaws. “Whoo.”

Fiika shook off the chills sinking into her bones. “Let’s keep moving.” She started down another corridor, blaster raised and finger resting gently on the trigger.

The deeper into the ship they moved, the worst the stench got.

Musty decay mingled with fresh excrement.

“Oh, Emperor’s underwear, that’s ghastly.” Fiika quickened her pace, Koth on her heels.

“You said it,” he agreed. His voice was muffled from his shirt pulled up over his nose.

She couldn’t do that in her uniform. Instead she tried to alleviate it with holding her hand under her nose, but the lingering smell of carbonite made her stomach roll.

They progressed through the hallways.

The comm unit clicked. “These things are hardly cunning,” Lana sighed. “Their usual prey clearly doesn’t offer much of a challenge.”

Wingmaw chirping echoed from the corridor Fiika and Koth had just passed through, followed by the thunder of wings.

“Run.” Fiika whirled and sprinted down the hallway, Koth on her heels.

He had his comm raised as he growled into it. “Yeah…” Koth twisted and blindly fired a few bolts behind them. “Clearing these things out? Very easy… Easiest thig ever.”

Fiika got off a couple shots.

They turned a corner into what looked like a docking bay. Koth dragged her down the stairs. “Duck!”

She crouched under the stairs next to him and watched an enormous cloud of wingmaw erupt out of the exit. The creatures fly in a tight spiral, and left for the swamp through the open docking bay doors.

“That was close,” Koth mumbled.

She wanted to snap something back as they stood, but across the hangar… something red glittered on the ceiling.

Another one of the tiny little bulbous bugs with the red eyes scurried over her boot.

On all accounts, Fiika considered herself rather calm and level-headed over anything, but those specific bugs, after their egg sac had burst… She loathed them in particular, and perhaps was harboring a fear of them.

So Fiika squeaked and kicked her boot, flicking the bug to the ground. It let out a satisfying crunch as she stomped on it. “That’s better.” She turned to look back at the shiny red thing. “What do you suppose that is?”

“Dunno.” Koth raised his blaster rifle and took a shot.

A screech of fury tore through the hanger and into the swamp, stirring up other creatures that turned tail and ran.

Away from the Gravestone.

The red sparkly thing shifted over and began to descend.

“Oh…” Koth started.

“Bloody hell,” Fiika finished.

It was an enormous one of the bulbous body bug with the red eyes. Enormous, as in the fact that Fiika had flown star fighters the same size at it. No bug should have ever been allowed to grow that big, solely through the laws of nature, let alone logic.

The bug slowly shifted across the floor.

“I think it smells us,” whispered Koth.

“Really? I wasn’t quite sure.” Fiika swallowed the lump in her throat. “I don’t suppose you’ve got a knife on you?”

“Yeah.” He wriggled a small switchblade out of his boot. “Why?”

“I prefer daggers.”

“You wanna get up close and personal with that?”

“Of course not, naturally.” She flicked out the blade and gestured to the advancing bug. “Distract it somehow.”

Koth raised his rifle. “I’ll shoot out the eyes.”

“Perfect. Make it blind.” Fiika slipped away from the stairs and moved to the scaffolding under the other stairs. More of the little bugs were spinning around on stringy webs. She wrinkled her nose in disgust and continued moving to circle around the giant.

Koth’s blaster rifle spat heavy fire at the bug.

The bug didn’t like particularly care for that. So the bug screeched again and charged Koth.

Fiika adjusted her grip on the switchblade and pushed herself into a sprint at the bug’s bulbous-sac thing. If it was filled with baby bugs, she was going headfirst into swampwater to get them off.

She leapt and sliced into the bulb-thing.

The bug screeched again and skittered to the left.

Fiika kept pace, staying under it where the pinchers couldn’t reach her. She stabbed the bulb again and gagged as luminescent red slime dripped down and coated her arm. Nevertheless, she raised the knife and buried it into the hilt in the bulb.

The bug tried running away, as if it knew it wouldn’t survive the tirade from Koth’s rifle or Fiika and the knife.

She dug her heels in, hand in a deathgrip on the switchblade, and let the bug tear a gash in its side as it ran.

Blasterfire hit the glowing red gunk leaking out of the bulb.

The bug caught fire.

Fiika released the knife and backpedaled from the smoking and screeching bug.

She backed up into Koth after a couple steps.

“That’s…” He trailed off as the bug collapsed, dead. “Ew.”

“At least it’s gone.” She started swiping the slime off her sleeve. “And I’ve got this disgusting gunk on me.”

“It’s doesn’t smell too good.”

“Neither does the rest of this place, Koth.”

He snorted. “Yeah… Come on, let’s keep cleaning the Gravestone out. She doesn’t deserve these beasts ruining her.”

* * *

 

Arcann gazed through the hologram.

She’d escaped.

Been freed by some Sith; some unknown Sith who’d managed to stroll through the Spire’s secure storage rooms. What was Fiika’s value to her? Was this the Sith she’d been a pilot for? Pilots were so common, though. It was difficult for him to believe that she’d freed Fiika solely for that.

Arcann’s blood chilled.

Did the Sith know that he’d been seeing Fiika, and this was a blow struck against him?

No, no, of course not. No one knew, but him and Vaylin and a select few Knights who guarded the prison. Obviously the Sith cared for Fiika. Otherwise… why melt her?

But still, one fact remained the same.

Fiika was _gone_.

Fury bubbled away under the surface. Fury at her escape, fury that he had precious few options to get her, fury that he wanted this girl back, and, naturally, fury at himself for not melting her out as soon as he’d decided he was going to.

He hadn’t chased after her himself, and deeply regretted it. Of course, Zakuul seeing their Emperor chasing after a nobody pilot would raise questions better left unasked, but…

She was gone.

He curled his fingers into a fist. First she’d dared to have been nice to him, almost exactly five years ago, just a few steps below the throne on which he now sat. And then she’d dared reach for him, act as if she needed him, when she was melted out. She’d make him develop an infatuation with her and then had the gall to escape and leave him in torment-

No.

She didn’t know any of that.

Arcann let his fingers loosen.

And that Jedi... he'd stolen his arm away, left him on Korriban to be buried under the sand... Arcann felt his fury rising. He'd escaped, too, and there's be no mercy from him. A memory rose, of the Jedi shielding Fiika from Father. Protecting her. Why? Jedi and Imperials were not on the same side. Was... Did the Jedi care for her in a romantic sense? Why else would he protect her? And then Fiika...

_Izak damn you._

Damn everything she made him feel.

Damn that blonde hair and kindness…

His fury ebbed.

“Brother,” whined Vaylin.  “Are you deaf now?”

He raised his head to glare, letting his displeasure show as he gestured to the hologram. “The Endless Swamp,” he answered. “After the damage you inflicted,” Arcann made a point of pausing, torn between congratulating her on keeping Fiika onworld or snapping at her for almost killing Fiika. “They couldn’t have made a safe landing anywhere else.”

If he tried had enough, focused and stretched his senses, he could barely feel her out there. Faint, but there. Something else, though… something else was with her, and the sensation he’d gotten from it had send chills of terror down his spine.

Vaylin crouched to study the hologram, twisted smile playing on her lips. “And if they didn’t make a safe landing?”

_Pray to Izak that they did, Sister._

“We’ll know soon enough.” Arcann pressed the announcement button for the Skytrooper factory. “Skytroopers: sweep the area. Focus on regions with high metallic sensor readings.” He paused, seeing the little alert on the armrest that there was a message for him.

Had the carbonite poisoning doctor gotten back to him so soon?

Something to read once Vaylin left.

Which, as the lift doors opened, seemed unlikely in the immediate future.

A pair of armed Knight Captains escorted a Knight. This Knight was unarmed, fear and stubborn resolution radiating off him.

Vaylin hummed in interest, slowly descending the stairs.

The guards stopped.

The Knight stepped forward, shouldered thrown back and standing tall; all appearances of a man bracing himself for what was to come. “I oversaw security in the carbonite prison.”

Ah, yes, him.

The Knight who looked the other way when Arcann had visited a certain carbonite figure every few days.

“I…” halted the Knight. Arcann sensed him steel himself for what he was to say next. “I humbly submit myself to answer for this failure.”

Vaylin lunged forward, her lightsaber cleanly cutting Knight into two.

Arcann say her hood shift. Something told him that she was considered the other two Knights. “Sister?” he asked softly. Was she about to go over the edge?

Apparently not. Vaylin sheathed the lightsaber and clipped it onto her belt. She turned and shrugged, frown marring her face. “I didn’t like his answer.”

* * *

 

Lord Beniko had discovered the lounge on the Gravestone.

The couches were metal skeletons, cushions long since had fallen prey to mold, mildew, more of the bulb-bugs, and HK-55’s flamethrower to rid said couches from said bugs.

Viewports gave them a fantastic view of the never-ending swamp, lest they get their hopes up that any civilization was nearby.

Select few of the lights above weren’t broken, but without power, glo-rods were all they had. And very few of those they had, too, leaving darkness to pool in the corners and cast awkward shadows.

And then there was the smell. Bug excrement, feces from various creatures, the dank stench of mold, rusted metal, smoke from burning cushions, and the slime-stained sleeve of Fiika’s uniform. Lord Beniko and Master Pattik had their robes pulled over their noses when Fiika and Koth entered.

Koth took a quick survey of the decrepit lounge and grinned.

Fiika came to the conclusion that it’d officially reached the worst place she’d even been whilst working with Lord Beniko. It was at a close tie with the pirate’s barge Lord Beniko had found her on, for the title ‘Utterly worst place ever’. She grimaced at the stink. “Lovely.”

“It’s not so bad.” Koth gestured to HK-55 as the droid finished burning the last couch and its inhabitants into ash. “It’s bug free!”

Fiika didn’t feel like responding as chills hit her again.

Lord Beniko saw. “Spook, you stay here with HK. Pattik, Koth, and I are going to clean out the rest of the ship.”

“Aright with me.” Fiika looked around for a semi-clean area to sit and settled on a tipped-over storage crate after wiping dried dung off it.

HK-55 lowered his arm, flamethrower sliding back into its slot. The droid stepped to the viewports, sensors scanning.

Fiika studied him for a moment. “You seem more like a bodyguard than an assassin. Is that your primary function?”

“Confirmation: It is a very difficult task indeed.” HK-55 circled the perimeter of the lounge, sticking his head down corridors and occasionally firing with a ‘thud’ audible a moment later. “That I have kept Masters Beniko and Vortena alive despite their high-risk activities is my greatest achievement.”

Oh, if the droid paid attention to them that closely…

“The two of them seem close,” Fiika stated, faking the offhanded tone.

HK-55 shouldered his rifle. “Deflection: I am not programmed to assess to discuss the emotional mattered of meatbags under my protection.”

Meatbags? What? “Uh-huh.” What ese was she supposed to say to being called a Meatbag by a deadly bodyguard droid.

At that moment another bulb-bug crawled out from a broken tube above them. Fiika whipped up the derringer blaster and fired, reducing the bug into ash. She breathed a sigh of relief. Those bugs…

“Admiration.” HK-55 kicked the bug carcass into a corner with others. “It is great pleasure to witness your skills firsthand, Master Allos.”

“Master? I’m not…”

“Clarification: Master Beniko altered my programming after we secured your release. I am to serve you with the same unexcelled loyalty with which I serve her. In fact, your survival is now my highest priority.” The droid bowed slightly at this declaration.

The guilty feeling weighing her down was joined by shivers. “I’m no more important than Lord Beniko or Koth. Don’t prioritize them over me because of the c-carbonite poisoning.” She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to contain what warmth she possessed.

HK-55 nodded. “Concession. I will alter my prioritization as you request, Master Allos.” After a moment, the droid leaned in close, voice volume lowered. “Gossip: I had not been led to expect such selflessness from you, Master Allos. I am impressed.”

Fiika stared back at the droid, entirely unsure on how to react to that. “Thank you?”

“Assurance: You are welcome.” HK-55 straightened back up and returned to scouring the room for any remaining bugs.

* * *

 

Lana returned to the lounge to find her… Actually, Agent Allos wasn’t her pilot anymore, so calling her that felt wrong. Friend? Was Agent Allos her friend still, after all these years? Lana had thought she’d perished on Darth Marr’s ship, had mourned accordingly; but she was alive.

It felt like they’d drifted apart those years, fallen out of touch.

For Lana, at least. Agent Allos had been frozen in time for five years. For her… Ziost’s ruin had been barely two months ago. For her, Lana and her were still professional friends.

Regardless of all that, the fact remained that Agent Allos was back to shivering uncontrollably on the floor, pale and cold to the touch.

“Spook.” Lana opened her pack and pursed her lips. The kolto was limited, but Agent Allos’ temperature was plummeting. She injected her with kolto.

Agent Allos tensed up, appearing to be in excruciating pain for a good moment before relaxing. “Thank you, My Lord.”

“Yes. Can’t have you freezing up.”

She nodded. “I… I’m just cold, is all.”

Lana sat down beside her. “Carbonite poisoning can do that. You need real medical treatment, Spook.”

“I… Not the codename, please.”

Lana could sense the grief in her. “Alright, Agent Allos.”

That got a smile. Agent Allos slowly sat up, arms still wrapped around herself tightly. “Lord Beniko, I understand if you want to be formal, but Fiika is fine. It’s only as if we’ve known each other for years.”

“Fiika.” Lana nodded. Perhaps friends was what they were.

“Now that we’ve got that out of the way, I’ve got questions. You did say that you could answer some?”

“That I did.” Lana pulled a pair of meal bars from her pack and flicked one to Agent Al- Fiika. “What is it that you’d like to know?”

Fiika grinned and bit into the bar. “Theron,” she said through a mouthful of food.

“Anything but that topic.”

“I. HATE. WINGMAWS!” Koth exploded out of the one of the hallways, forehead scratched and hair disorderly. He threw himself down on of the couches’ frames. “Those bastards are everywhere.”

“Better than mynocks,” Fiika said.

Koth snorted. “Barely.”

They fell silent.

Lana didn’t wish to discuss what she knew Fiika would ask about in front of Koth. The man had a blindness when it came to the Emperor, and Ziost… the Emperor would not be discussed in an agreeable light for Koth.

Fiika looked around, color returning to her face. “So… This ship has been here for a thousand years? More?”

Lana wanted to bury her face into her hands. Koth… and the Gravestone… It was a miracle that she’d found other topics, like sabaac, to discuss with him. To say he was obsessed would be a gross understatement.

“Right!” Koth gestured at Fiika eagerly. “It’s amazing that it’s in such good condition, considering.” He unwrapped his own meal bar. “Judging by the damage, I’ve seen, the stories are true. Whoever built the Gravestone scuttled it themselves after the Eternal Fleet was defeated.” Koth pointed menacing with his half-eaten meal bar, glowering at Fiika’s doubtful look. “It wasn’t shot down!”

“I certainly, utterly, completely believe you, since the Fleet is still very much up and running, and we’re… sitting on the ashes of couch cushions.”

“The Fleet was defeated, not destroyed,” Lana interjected. “Valkorian brought it back, under his own control, more than a century ago.”

Pattik entered, nodding to them and sitting down beside Fiika.

Lana made a mental note to remind him to stop using Fiika’s old codename.

“Exactly!” popped the rest of his meal bar into his mouth and pulled out another. “The Eternal Fleet is completely automated. Nobody knows who first built it, and every theory is crazier than the last.”

Pattik and Fiika turned to Lana for her take on Koth’s statements.

_Why do I encourage him?_

She forced back the urge to roll her eyes. “Renegades left behind after successful droid revolution… representation of an entire race of droids from somewhere beyond the edge of the known galaxy…” She didn’t add that these outlandish theories were the realistic ones.

Koth bobbed his head in agreement. “Like I said, crazy stuff. But no matter where it came from, the Eternal Fleet is practically unstoppable, and Arcann controls every single ship from the Throne.”

Silence filled the lounge, occasionally interrupted with HK-55 finding a bug to exterminate.

Pattik leaned forward, thoughtful. “So if we defeat Arcann, the Eternal Fleet isn’t a problem anymore?”

Fiika looked up sharply at that.

But what Pattik said made sense to Lana.

“So long as the Throne goes to someone other than his sister, yes.” If Vaylin took the throne… Lana prayed it never would become a reality. “Regardless, we have many other things to discuss. I owe the pair of you five years’ worth of explanations.”

Koth patted the couch he was sprawled on. “Yeah, and I’m going to need some parts to get this thing moving again.”

Fiika spoke up. “Fresh supplies and water would also be wise.” She hid a yawn behind a hand.

“That it would,” Pattik agreed.

Lana stared out at the endless swamp. “Tomorrow,” she said distantly. “Today… today had enough action, and I believe we all warrant a good rest. HK, watch the room for creatures.”

“Yes, Master Beniko.”

She turned back and already found Fiika dozing on Pattik’s shoulder.

* * *

 

That was odd.

Fiika felt around her bun again. It was done up in a peculiar manner, pins in different places than where she regularly put them in...

Did someone do her hair before she went into carbonite? Or… that medical droid in the Spire had said she’d been treat for carbonite poisoning. There’d been bacta in her.

It was some other mystery to figure out later, once they had more supplies and water and parts for the ship. Fiika was extremely doubtful that the Gravestone, if it even was the Gravestone, would be able to fly, let alone reach lightspeed.

But it was all they had at the moment; a little flicker of hope that she couldn’t dampen out with reason or logic or rationality.

“Are you feeling up to this?” Lord Beniko studied her with concern as Fiika hiked up the straps of the travel pack.

She nodded. “Yes, My Lord. If I keep moving I should retain my warmth.”

Lord Beniko didn’t look satisfied. “I’ll comm HK if the need arises.”

“I assure you, it won’t.” Fiika marched forward, determined to not be the weak link in the group, no, she needed to pull her own weight, especially with such sparse supplies.

And then-

She stepped backwards, biting her tongue to keep the scream contained.

An enormous bulb-bug, nearly the size of the one rotting in the Gravestone’s hanger, was casually climbing up a tree.

In all fairness, even Lord Beniko looked mildly alarmed at the size. “Let’s go this way.” She started to inch along the outside of the Gravestone.

“Gladly.”

Fiika hiked behind the Sith, listening to the sounds of the swamp and memorizing them. Her boots, still damp from the previous day’s forays into the marsh, quickly returned to their soaked status. The sleeve of her uniform was stiff with dried bulb-bug gunk.

It didn’t have a pleasant aroma, either.

Lord Beniko was quiet as she moved through the swamp; silent and scanning the surroundings with a sharp eye.

It was as if she’d forgotten Fiika was with her.

_It’s been five years for her. Obviously it’s not like it was just a few days that I was gone._

She batted a gnat away from her face.

“Here.” Lord Beniko knelt at a trickling waterfall and held out a hand for the scanner.

Fiika rummaged through the empty containers in the pack and found it at the bottom of the pack, naturally under everything else. “Here.”

She nodded and collected water in the sample vial.

The scanner whirled.

Fiika broke the silence. “When… When Darth Marr and Master Pattik and I faced Emperor Valkorian… they knew right away. He was the Sith Emperor, Lord Beniko.”

_He destroyed my home. I made a deal with his son and killed the bastard._

The words remained unsaid.

Lord Beniko shut her eyes and remained squatting next to the little waterfall. “I know,” she finally spoke softly. “When he was struck down…”

The scanner beeped and flashed ugly colors. The water wasn’t suitable for drinking, not unless they wanted to get severely digestively ill or poison someone.

Lord Beniko sighed and continued as she stood up. “When he was struck down, it released ripples through the Force. Everyone who had felt the Sith Emperor’s presence in the past… On Yavin Four, on Ziost… We all sensed what happened.” She shook her head, ending the thought, shadow on her face.

Fiika sloshed through the murky water behind her, waiting for the rest of the story. The sounds of the swamp seemed louder as she tried to tone them out, not daring to push the Sith to share.

After a moment, Lord Beniko spoke again; her voice less soft and sorrowful. “Arcann invaded soon after, claiming that a ‘outlander’ had assassinated his father, the ‘Immortal Emperor’. It didn’t take us long to unravel the truth.”

“So you know I killed him?”

“You- you?”

Fiika nearly walked into Lord Beniko’s back. She stepped around her, alarmed at the Sith’s reaction. “Yes? Arcann asked me if I’d help kill his father, and so I did.”

Lord Beniko looked, for lack of a better way to put it, as if she was still processing Fiika’s initial question. “You… You killed… Fiika, you killed the _Sith Emperor_.”

“Fired enough shots into his back to drop a rabid Rancor, My Lord.”

“Emperor’s underwear, Fiika.”

Fiika smiled faintly. “I assumed it was soiled, My Lord.”

Lord Beniko resumed her path through the mud, avoiding an ominous pair of luminescent fungal growths, occasionally looking back at Fiika in a mix of amazement and disbelief.

She followed the Sith, still with questions to ask about the five years. “What side did Arcann attack first?”

_Since he’d proclaimed I’d assassinated his father, was it the Empire who suffered first?_

“Both,” Lord Beniko stated. Her lightsaber appeared in her hand, and she casually disposed of a creature lurking in the reeds. “Ships from the Eternal Fleet struck at shipyards and rallying points for both sides simultaneously. They favored ambush tactics throughout the war.”

“Arcann doesn’t strike me as the sort to wait in the shadows.”

“No…but Zakuulan sensor technology has a far greater range than our own, and their ships can fly much further on less resources.” Lord Beniko knocked a vine out of her way. “Only vessels retrofitted with Isotope-Five could manage to outrun them. None could truly compete,” she said, voice empty.

Fiika paused beside her, seeing the look on Lord Beniko’s face. The Sith was lost in her thought, thinking. “How long did the Republic and Empire mange to hold out?” She took the water scanner and tested a small trickle dripping down a ledge.

“Within three months, the bulk of our naval forces were disabled or eliminated, and the Republic was in the same situation.” Lord Beniko stared out at the swamp, hands on her hips and mouth twisted with displeasure. “With naval superiority, Arcann’s forces could begin choking off supply lines, trade… any ship travel at all. The Eternal Fleet seemed to be everywhere at once. Coruscant and Dromund Kaas were blockaded by the end of the first year.”

The beep from the scanner interrupted the conversation.

“No good here.” Fiika dumped the water out and they started through the mire. “How did it all end?”

“The members of the Dark council fought Arcann’s invasion ruthlessly- and lost. The Empire’s treaty was ultimately negotiated by the Minister of Logistics.”

“That git.”

“My sentiments exactly. Chancellor Saresh also refused to discuss surrender, but the Republic Senate managed to overrule her. A cadre of Senators negotiated their own cease-fire terms.” She gave Fiika a knowing look. “All those Senators have since been disgraced or dismissed. I’m sure you can imagine the likely culprit.”

_Saresh._

Fiika stopped at another stream cascading down from above. “What about Sith Intelligence?”

Lord Beniko didn’t answer.

She didn’t press the issue. Fiika scanned the water, and sighed. “This is better still, but not drinkable. There should be a source for it somewhere; that ought to be better quality.”

They circled the cliff, looking for way up.

“I am no longer with Sith intelligence,” Lord Beniko finally admitted. “But I know most of its assets were wiped out in the fighting. From what I’ve heard, the Empress prefers to rely on technological surveillance than direct intervention.”

Fiika was only half-listening, instead eyeing the branches above. She held out an arm and stopped Lord Beniko from walking under one of the bulb-bug’s egg-sacs. They skirted the tree and started up a muddy path.

“And what of Dromund Kaas?” She couldn’t very well ask after Ziost. She knew what sort of answers would await her.

“I’m not sure of any reconstruction has taken place. So far, the treaties with Zakuul have held, but they will not hold forever…” Lord Beniko trailed off, relief present on her face.

They’d found the source of the water.

Lord Beniko took the scanner and knelt.

Fiika watched the swamp, listening to the chirps and buzzing and screeching and occasional bellow of something she’d rather not be introduced to.

“A freshwater spring. Should be safe for drinking.”

Fiika sat down beside her and together they began to fill the various containers in the pack.

“So the Eternal Fleet overwhelmed both the Republic and Empire.” Fiika twisted a lid on. “What was the result?”

“Both sides are forced to pay a heavy  tribute to Zakuul, mainly raw materials and resources. They are also held under an arms limitation statute. The Empire and Republic are both breaking it, of course,” the Sith scoffed. “But they’re still incapable of challenging the Throne directly.”

Fiika nodded. “Who rules the Empire now? You said Empress earlier.”

“Yes. Darth Acina was the only Dark Council member left standing; all other died or disappeared in the chaos. Without opposition, she declared herself Empress of the Sith.”

“Bit pretentious, isn’t it? And the Republic? Saresh isn’t still Chancellor, is she?” Fiika opened another container and lowered it to be filled.

Lord Beniko smiled faintly. “Saresh remains in power, though she no longer holds the title Chancellor. The Republic holds limits to their ruler’s terms, but her replacement is a mere puppet.” Her smile turned sour. “Both sides see this as an opportunity to eliminate the one another at a time of weakness instead of combining what strength they have,” she spat. “Arcann does nothing to prevent violence between them so long as their tribute is paid and no one challenges Zakuul superiority.” She violently twisted a lid on and forced the bottle into the pack.

“What does Arcann use the tribute for?” Fiika rearranged the full containers in the pack. “Zakuul doesn’t seem to need much.”

“A question no one else seems to ask or answer- not in any detail.” Lord Beniko let out a frustrated groan, wetting her hands and slicking back her hair. “Zakuul’s empire spans a sizeable portion of wild space, but not enough to consume the resources they’re acquiring. I’ve been working to learn the answer myself, but it’s been nearly impossible and no one seems to know anything.”

“Arcann could have destroyed both governments. He’s certainly got the firepower.”

Lord Beniko nodded, eyeing Fiika. “You don’t despise him, do you?”

“I… I met him, before Valkorian. He seemed rather alright, if a bit intense. I got the sense he loathed his father… and… I don’t know. He didn’t seem to be sinister, not the way Valkorian was. But he left the Empire and Republic to rule themselves?”

Lord Beniko shrugged. “I don’t think Arcann feels any desire to actually govern our portion of the galaxy.” She took a drink of water. “For now, at least. He views it as a backwater, useful only for resources. Powerful Zakuulan battle stations have been placed in orbit around key worlds to watch for possible uprisings, but there are no ongoing planetary occupations.” The last word was clipped, as if a _yet_ was supposed to be finishing off the sentence, but Lord Beniko had decided to trim it off last moment.

Fiika dipped her finger in the spring, watching the ripples spread out. “And now?”

“The ships of the Eternal Fleet patrol simply at random, while the tribute paid to Zakuul gradually chokes all economic potential.” Lord Beniko frowned as she drummed her fingers into the dirt.

“Is it just us? Any allies? Friends? Rebellious enemies of Zakuul or anyone with a death wish?” Fiika decided she needed something positive to hear after that enormous dump of depressing history facts.

Lord Beniko didn’t look up from staring across the spring. “I have some allies looking for anyone interested in rebelling as we speak. With all the chaos of the last few years, though, we’re hard pressed. For now… I make do with Koth and HK. And now you and Pat.”

Koth. The man who snored loud enough to wake them all up at various points in the night, and who was up before dawn to start repairing the ship. And was nice enough to throw his coat over Fiika when the kolto had begun to wear off.

“How did you end up working together with Koth?”

“I knew I’d never find Pat- or you- alone. Recruiting assets with firsthand knowledge of Zakuul was my top priority for years.” She put the water bottle away in a side pocket of the pack. “Koth was on the run, pursued by the deadliest of Zakuul Knights. I… resolved the situation.”

“You have a talent for doing that with situations.”

“Usually ones that concern you. And as I was saying, I resolved the situation.” Lord Beniko’s eyes twinkled with humor. “And we’ve worked together ever since. He’s been an invaluable ally. Koth is a Zakuul native, a veteran officer of their military- one of the few who hadn’t been replaced by a droid. He and his crew were part of the occupation of the planet Denon. When ordered to do things they weren’t comfortable with, Koth took his ship and the crew went rogue.”

_Like Taai. But…_

The memories were too bitter and reminded her of all that was lost for good. Fiika distracted herself with creating more ripples in the spring. “What exactly were they ordered to do?”

“That’s for Koth to say.” Lord Beniko softened her sharp refusal with a gentle tone as she continued. “But I trust him with my life, as I trust you. I’m confident you’ll learn to trust one another just as well.”

_But I’m your pilot and back-up, not him. I was that first._

Fiika pushed the resentment down. It would do no good, it would only make the situation tenser, and probably wouldn’t endear her to the man. It was stupid, anyway. It’d been five years for Lord Beniko.

Time to change the subject. Or something. Anything else.

“So why us? You clearly went thought a load of trouble to get me and Master Pattik out of carbonite.”

Lord Beniko-

Fiika felt chills that had nothing to do with the carbonite poisoning settle in her stomach.

Lord Beniko looked guilty.

“My Lord?”

“I… To be honest with you, Agent- Fiika.” The Sith met her eye, jaw tight. “I thought you perished on Marr’s ship. I went for Pat. I didn’t know you would be frozen next to him, but I very well couldn’t leave you there as that monster’s possession on display. And I would rescue you again if given the choice.”

Fiika dipped her finger into the spring again, watching the ripples.

_I wasn’t supposed to be rescued._

It… was almost comforting. It was by chance that she was alive, like everything else. Like the pilot defection, the pirate’s brig, Ziost… she could be dead a thousand times over and yet by chance, she persisted. Like a bad toe fungus.

Perhaps that wasn’t the best of comparisons.

“Fiika, I need someone to watch our backs. Someone I know is perfect for the job and will do what is necessary. You were there when the galaxy was changed, and you played a role in it.” Lord Beniko laid a hand on her shoulder, leaning in and eyes pleading. “I need you to help change the galaxy again.”

“’Course, My Lord. My duty is to make sure you don’t go off and die when everything goes pear-shaped as per usual.” Fiika nodded, still watching her finger playing the water. Lord Beniko was partly why she was alive after various situations, and with no family left after Ziost… Lord Beniko was as close as she’d get to a place she belonged.

“And…” Lord Beniko released her. “There’s something else. I’ve felt it since the moment you fell out of the carbonite. There’s a power in you, something new… it’s elusive, but I know it’s there.”

_The voice._

_No, that was a dream._

_Was it?_

_It had to be. I haven’t heard it since I’ve been thawed. Ha, thawed, like a slab of steak. A meatbag, rather like HK. I’m the thawed meatbag._

Fiika schooled her face to not betray her humorous thoughts. “I’m the same person now as I was when I was frozen.”

“Something is different, I’m sure of it. But for now, I’m relieved to have you with us.” Lord Beniko stood and offered her a hand up. “We’ve got the water; shall we scavenge for food or would you like to accompany Koth for engine parts? I know your training for finding local edibles wasn’t your favorite.”

“You know very well that I would rather spoon my eyes out than deal with Agent Trawson again. I’ll assist Koth.”

“You won’t have to worry about him anymore. He was killed a few years ago.”

Fiika knew Lord Beniko meant well, she did. But she was Sith, and pragmatic atop that.

Agent Trawson had been a right pain in the ass, but he’d always been a pain in the ass to everyone. A bitter and vicious old man who hated everyone and everything that was done different from back in his day. Someone who’d always been at Imperial Intelligence for as long as anyone could remember; and no one dared look him up.

Dead.

Fiika had always assumed he’d still be behind the recruit desk to frighten the shit out of the green agents long after she’d grown gray and died herself.

“How?” Fiika asked quietly.

Lord Beniko answered in an equally gentle tone. “Poison. He… do you truly wish to know?”

“Yes.”

“He poisoned himself rather than let Vaylin get any information he could have. It was not a pleasant or quick death.”

Fiika bowed her head.

The swamp seemed silent now, the chirps and buzzing and screeching muted in sorrow.

Agent Trawson had always seemed like he’d be alive forever. She’d joked with other recruits that Death was probably scared to approach him because Death would be snapped at for not standing straight enough and then be sent down to the basement for some files that didn’t exist.

A tear fell from her cheek and splashed into the spring. Ripples spread out, radiating farther and farther away.

There was a parallel there to her old place in the galaxy as a simple Intelligence Agent moving away from her; but Fiika did not want to delve into it.

“I’m terribly sorry. I thought you hated the man.” Lord Beniko pulled her into an awkward half-hug.

“I… I did. He was a bloody bastard, he was, and…” Fiika pushed the grief down. “He’s gone, Marr’s gone, Ziost… I…” She doubled over, wailing. “I- I… Mum and Luuko and and andandandmycousinsand… it can’t be real, it bloody can’t be, the galaxy isn’t this unfair to one person.” Buried grief rose to the surface and Fiika dropped to the ground, screaming.

A soft hand patted her shoulder. “It’s alright.”

“No its not. Everyone’s dead. I was frozen for five years. I… Ziost!” She curled up into a ball and finally let the pain and grief and anger out. “I never got to say goodbye!”

“I know.”

Slowly the bawling turned to sobs, the sobs to sniffles, the sniffles to hiccups. Fiika opened her eyes, realizing at some point she’d been hauled up to sit and lean against Lord Beniko. “I… I miss them. Terribly.”

“I know.”

This wouldn’t do. She was the back-up, the one to watch everyone else who was watching her team. She couldn’t be the weak link of the chain, or worse, be the one prone to crying fits and then was entirely left out of the chain. Fiika took a deep breath and stood. “Thank you, My Lord. Shall we return to the ship so I can go with Koth?”

Lord Beniko nodded and started back towards the Gravestone, pack slung across her back.

The swamp remained quiet.

No chirps, buzzing, screeching.

Silent.

The creatures were hiding from a predator.

Fiika drew the little blaster from Koth. “Lord Beniko. The noise.”

The Sith’s spine stiffened. She drew her lightsaber, leaving it unlit and moving to stand back-to-back with Fiika. “I do not sense anything.”

“Salutations!”

The pair of the them leapt back and regarded HK-55 the way Fiika regarded the bulb-bugs.

The droid waved at them, smoking rifle in one arm. “It is great pleasure to see you again so soon, Masters. I have encountered minimal resistance in my patrol.”

Fiika holstered the blaster, trying to cool the adrenaline in her veins. The droid could move silently, she’s damn well give it that.

Lord Beniko narrowed her eyes. “How minimal?”

“Reassurance: only one Skytrooper and three local predators with poor survival instincts.” HK-55 stood proud. “Our position appears to be secure at this time, but I would still advise caution on your return trip, Masters.”

“Keep up the good work, HK.” Fiika waved a hand at the droid, heart still racing from the scare. Her fingers were starting to get chilled again. “We’ve got to get a move on, so… enjoy yourself on patrol.”

The droid’s eyes flashed gleefully. “It would be my pleasure to do so, Master!”

Fiika watched the droid disappear into the fog. “I’m going to regret saying that, aren’t I?”

“I believe you are correct in that prediction.”

* * *

 

“Ready?” Koth asked.

Fiika looked him over, decided the question was better suited for him, and asked it in return. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you certain?”

The man stared suspiciously at her and felt around his body. “I got my pants… shirt… socks and boots. Yeah, I’m good.”

Fiika couldn’t deny the teasing smile stretching across her face. It was a lovely change of pace from the grieving earlier. “Goggles?”

“Yeah.”

“Belt?”

Koth hooked his thumbs through it as an answer.

“Gun?”

He froze, and looked pissed at himself. “No way.”

“Uh-huh. You forgot your rifle.”

He muttered something under his breath and disappeared into the engine room to emerge with the rifle. “Okay, now I’m ready.”

“Are you?”

Koth gave her an unamused flat glare. “Yeah. And you could’ve just told me I needed my gun.”

Fiika stepping in front of him, swinging her hips. “And miss the fun of rubbing it in?”

He snorted. “I’ll get you back.”

“I don’t forget things. I’ve had training.”

“So have I.” Koth stepped around her to march ahead. “You can keep up?”

“Don’t slow down for my account. I can pace myself.”

He opened and shut his mouth, at a loss for a response.

Fiika pressed her advantage. “Snowcat got your tongue? Or are you saving your energy?” She paused and turned back to see him standing in the corridor, fighting a smile.

Instead of a retort, he raised his voice. “Did you find anything tasty?”

“We found a freshwater spring,” Lord Beniko answered. She tossed Fiika the empty pack. “Put anything you find out there in this.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

Koth took the pack from her and slung it over his shoulder. “Great. I’ve got a pretty good idea of the parts we need- let’s go see what we can find. Pat’s in the hangar, cleaning out the mud and iknayid population.”

Lana nodded to them as they left. “I’ll go assist.”

Fiika silently walked aside Koth.

He didn’t volunteer any conversation.

This is going to be a long trip. I’m not even up to date on the Huttball teams.

She stopped at the Gravestone’s entrance, seeing what Koth was walking towards. “Where did you find that?”

The grav-sled was more rust than metal; and what color remained of the original paint job was a bright yellow usually reserved for stomach bile.

“In the hangar hiding behind some crates. Spent the morning fixing her up.” Koth slung the pack into the trailer. “It’s amazing that it still runs.”

Fiika climbed into the passenger seat and found the seat belt had long since disintegrated. “If I fall off, can I expect you to return to pick me up?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

Koth started the engine and smiled. “If I feel like it.”

It was Fiika’s turn to be without a quick response as they glided off through the fog.

* * *

 

“So this is where it all… landed.” Fiika waved her hand at the empty expanse of saltmarsh.

In the distance past the trees glittered a sea, the sunlight not daring to challenge the gloomy clouds that blanketed the swamp. Across the ocean, at the edge of the swamp, began a base of the spire; where civilization ended and the natural chaos of the world could reign.

A cloud of wingmaws rose and spiraled over the treetops.

“Landed over there.” Koth pointed to a pile of tree branches that looked vaguely suspicious, as if they were hiding something that shouldn’t be seen, like the entire rear compartment of a stolen transport. He gestured to a much small pile of branches and vines. “Scavenged the usable stuff and hid it.”

Fiika hopped down the grav-sled and waded over to him. She ignored the coldness collected around her spine.

Koth handed her a crate of power cells. “It’s destiny. I ditch- “

She cleared her throat and smiled sweetly at him. “I believe _I_ was the pilot when it fell off.”

“That wasn’t intentional.”

“So it fell off.” Fiika hefted the box onto the sled.

Koth was trying to not look amused. “Fine. But these parts, we find the Gravestone, and then what do we need to get it flying again?” He lifted another box, this one of spools of wiring.

Fiika met his gaze. “This?”

“Exactly! Honestly, its plain as day.” He nodded towards the supplies and carried the box to the grav-sled. “Not for Lana, though,” he called over his shoulder.

She straightened up from reaching for a crate of grease and tape, half-listening. “What?”

Koth sloshed back to the supplies. “For her, it’s all just skill and luck and coincidence.”

“As opposed to us doing this because of destiny? It’s destiny that I’ve got carbonite poisoning and we’re here, ankle deep in disgusting water while the one-armed Emperor is hunting us down because me and a Jedi are no longer hanging on his wall.” She leaned in close to Koth, taking the box from him. “I bloody hope not.”

“And why’s that?” He picked up the last box and together they splashed their way to the grav-sled.

“I didn’t come out here to philosophize, Koth. I’d like to get off this planet to somewhere warmer, the sooner, the better.” Fiika shivered, feeling as if ice cubes were racing down her back.

He nodded thoughtfully and leaned against the sled, pushing the last crates back. “Can’t disagree with that too much.” Koth reached over to the front seat and handed her his coat. “Lana’s told me about all the things you’ve done.”

“Oh, being a chauffeur, researcher, laundress, cook, life-saver, medic… I’ve done pretty much everything at some point. You’re going to have be more specific with your compliments.” She buttoned up his coat and climbed into the passenger seat.

He tapped his fingers on the controls for a moment, grinning. “Lana spoke about you a lot. Sometimes I wasn’t even sure if you were real or just five protocol droids with different programming.”

“Well?” She raised to voice to be heard over the engine. “Do I meet your expectations?”

“I’m reserving judgement.”

They flew through the swamp in silence for a moment, passing Iknayids, the names of the bulb-bugs. “So,” he started.

“So.” Fiika got the distinct impression he was studying her as she watched the swamp pass by.

Koth cleared his throat. “I figure I know all about your past- you deserve to know mine.”

She looked over at him, smirking. “I doubt you know everything. Lord Beniko doesn’t know some things. They were classified even for her. But if you ask nice enough, I _might_ tell you.”

Taai. The defectors. It wasn’t in any official report, no, no one wanted to admit to anyone important that a Republic spy had managed to convince nearly an entire squad of pilots to defect; nor admit that the one who brought down the spy was a nobody pilot who’d done her own research and found holes in the recruitment system.

She’d been sent into Imperial Intelligence with a broken heart and a shiny new award and rank to patch it.

“Lana might’ve told you I was the captain of a warship during Arcann’s campaign against the Core Worlds.” Koth’s voice grew serious. “My crew and I deserted, but I’m not going to pretend that we didn’t do our fair share of damage beforehand. Just…” He glanced sideways at her. “Thought you should hear it from me.”

Fiika matched his tone. “Lord Beniko mentioned you deserted instead of following orders… You don’t have to tell me, I’ve had my fair share of horrific orders.”

“We were holding territory on Denon. Locals rioted, and ordered were to open fire until they stopped.” Koth took a deep breath, visibly relaxing as he got that off his chest. “None of us even wanted to be there… massacring civilians? That’s not how Zakuul is supposed to work.”

“War shows you who you really are.” Fiika flicked up the collar of his coat, clutching it around her neck to stay warm. “You and your crew made the right choice.”

Koth nodded. “Glad you think so. One more thing while we’re being honest.” He slowed down the grav-sled and turned to look at her. “When you risked your life to shut that generator down, you showed me you’re someone I can count on. I want to take Arcann down, but we don’t have to take all of Zakuul down with him.” He smiled kindly. “I’m glad you understand that, too.”

Fiika waited a beat to respond. “I certainly hope that this isn’t all we have in common.”

“I’ve got a scar on my back in the shape of a spaceship.”

She covered her mouth to keep the giggles from surfacing. “I meant other views, not… anything in general.”

“Also got a mole on my leg that looks like an eyeball.”

“Fine. I’ve got nine toes.”

“What?” Koth twisted to look at her, jerking the grav-sled in the process. He righted it to avoid flying them into a tree. “You have nine toes?”

“Maybe, and now you’re curious.”

He shook his head, grin remaining. “Fine, I am.”

She settled back in her seat to watch the swamp buzz past.

Koth’s comm unit went off.

“Request: please rendezvous at my current coordinates at your earliest convenience, Masters. I require assistance.”

HK-55 ended the call before either Koth or Fiika could respond.

“Blasted droid…” Koth muttered as he hooked a right. The grav-sled let out a protesting groan but kept going. “What’s he gotten into now?”

* * *

 

Fiika smelled smoke. She leapt off the grav-sled before it stopped, fumbling around to get her blaster out from under Koth’s coat. “HK?” she called out.

“Please! Save us!” a voice yelled.

She splashed through the swamp towards the voice. On her right was a campsite; small fire burning brightly and a pair of tents, one of which was only half-up. Fiika rounded a tree, and slowed down, hands on her hips. “HK?”

The droid had three people held at gunpoint. There very dirty, very worn down, and very terrified people. The man had his hands out, pleading; the women behind him clutching each other.

“WHAT THE IS GOING ON HERE?” Koth thundered. He arrived next to Fiika in a spray of swamp water. “What’d you do to them?”

HK-55 straightened indignantly. “Protestation: I have done nothing to these pitiful meatbags, Master! They were merely bystanders when I destroyed a group of Skytroopers. They’ve requested our help in escaping the enemy’s notice.”

“Then take your rifle off then,” Fiika snapped.

One of the women exiles spoke up. “Please, we’re no danger to you. We were exiled for protesting Emperor Arcann’s war.”

‘We’ve already lost two of our friends,” added the other woman. “Please, is there anything you can do for us?”

Fiika and Koth traded looks.

Fiika answered. “We’re preparing a ship with room for passengers. We can get your out of here, but you will have to help us repair it.”

All three exiles sagged in relief.

“You’re serious?” The man teared up. “That’s… that’s incredible. Thank you so much!”

Fiika shoved her hands into the pocket of the coat, fingers freezing. She plastered on what she hoped was a reassuring smile and turned back to Koth.

He was frowning at her. “You go back to the Gravestone with HK and get warmed up. “I’ll bring them back with me once we dismantle their camp. We’re doing the right thing by helping them.”

“Repairs should go quicker, too.” She buried deeper into the coat. “HK, you’re with me. Back to the ship.”

“Yes, Master Allos.”

* * *

 

Koth handed Fiika the last box of power cells. “There we go.”

She stared up at the gravestone, color back in her cheeks and his coat unbuttoned.

He did like how the coat sat on her, but then, it was a nice coat. Probably looked good on anyone. Even HK. He shook his head. Sure, she was fun and teased him back, but he didn’t know her. Not personally, really. Just second-hand information from Lana.

Maybe he should get to know her.

“You’re sure we can make it fly again?” she asked.

He leaned over from the sled’s pilot seat. “She’ll fly. Just been waiting for somebody to come along and remind her how.”

_Izak help me, that accidentally came out a bad innuendo._

“Let’s get to work.” Fiika marched off with the box.

Koth turned the grav-sled around and piloted it back into the hanger. He pretended to not see the massive iknayid laying a horrifically large egg sac in a tree. If he saw it, he’d have to deal with it. If Lana saw it, HK would deal with it. And that was preferable.

He nodded to Pattik as he parked the sled. “How’s it going?”

The Jedi shrugged. “Well.”

And that was that. The Zabrak was a quiet guy, on friendly terms with words but not one to use them in excess.

Koth hauled himself out of the pilot’s seat and grabbed the greatest treasure he’d discovered in the deep recesses of the hanger lockers.

A boom box.

With music in it.

Of course, he hadn’t check to see what kind of music. For all he knew, it was a Hutt opera or Knight meditation chants.

But music was music, and it’d make repairing somewhat more entertaining. He carted the box into the engine room and set to work.

* * *

 

“They still haven’t been found.”

Arcann knew that. The Knight knew that. Vaylin knew that. Most of Zakuul knew that. And repeating it was not going to change it.

They were out there somewhere. The Sith, Jedi, whoever the pilot was, and Fiika… and the occasional presence he could feel lurking around her… He didn’t like who it reminded him of.

“We’ve expanded the perimeter of the search.”

Arcann finally turned his attention to the Knight before him. “Why?”

“In case they’ve escaped- “

“Do you know how badly their ship was damaged? They could not have made it to the Eastern Coast, and yet you advise wasting time by searching past it?”

No.

Arcann rose from the Throne. “Send me what information you’ve gathered. I will tell you where to search.”

The Knight nodded and left.

Arcann turned to stare out at the stars.

_Which one is Ziost?_

Knowledge told him he couldn’t see it; the Core blocked it. But where was the planet she grew up on? That Father ravaged?

“Thinking about her?”

He lied. “No.”

“Hm… I can’t tell if you’re fibbing or not with that mask.” Vaylin stepped up to stand beside him. “I think she’s alright. Besides not being from Zakuul or having the Force or anything.”

“I am not discussing her with you.”

Vaylin’s smile was full of spite. “Oooohhh, brother, but you do care for her. Is she going to be Empress?” She gasped and clapped her hands to her cheeks. “My sister-in-law? I always wanted a sister.”

“Vaylin…” he warned.

“I’m only teasing. She wouldn’t love you back after being frozen.”

“She assassinated Father. That is why I am hunting her down.”

But her words hung in the air, painfully true.

* * *

 

Lana pushed back the last crate and took a moment to stare at the pile of mildew that had once been…

She actually didn’t have a clue.

But the crates were empty and could be stored away until needed.

She gathered the Force and lifted them up, carefully stacking them against the far wall of the hangar. Behind her, the exiles were sweeping out the collected dirt and stamping out any iknayids found. Better find them now than in a couple months when the bugs could have laid egg sacs and grown into a much more lethal size.

Lana pushed the trash over the edge of the hanger, into the swamp water below.

One set of crates done.

On to the next.

* * *

 

“WHAT IS IT WITH YOU AND WINGMAWS?” Koth shouted.

Fiika sprinted next to him, blaster firing wildly behind her. “I don’t bloody know! Maybe it’s you! You smell!”

“I what?” In a rush of speed, Koth shot ahead.

“SMELL!” Fiika’s boots pounded against the floor. “Turn left!”

Koth did. She leapt into the storage room after him and slammed the button for the door to close. Wingmaws thudded into it.

“I don’t smell.” Koth not-so-discreetly lifted his arm and took a whiff. “Okay, I don’t smell much.”

Fiika turned her attention to the storage room. It looked like a weapons locker, gun brackets and empty cubbies for secure bins. She kicked open a box at her feet and grinned. “Look!”

“Deodorant?”

She scoffed. “No, it’s something you know how to use.”

“I’m not looking now.” Koth crossed his arms and leaned against the far wall.

Fiika didn’t have the heart to tell him that the cubby he was using for an armrest was filthy and going to stain his shirt. Instead she turned back to the bin and pulled out a vibro-dagger. “There’s weapons in here.”

“What?” Koth rocketed off the wall and knelt beside her.

“Old ones.” The blaster she lifted up looked like it’d come with the Gravestone. The power core was completely rusted out and there were acid stains. “Completely rubbish, this is.” She gingerly moved the rusty pistols around, watching for iknayids and anything else equally revolting. There was a blaster rifle at the bottom that looked salvageable.

Koth looked in another bin. “Found that knife a twin.”

“I’ll take it.”

**Fiika tucked the knives into her belt and let a small smile show at the familiar weight of the weapons.**

* * *

 

The datapad didn’t say anything useful.

The second search area he’d sent the Skytroopers to had been a bust.

Two weeks. Two weeks they’d been on the run.

He sighed and leaned back into the couch cushions.

The scars on his side prickled. That Jedi…

Arcann’s fury grew.

He’d escaped; he couldn’t pay for that he’d done to Arcann, not until he was back in Zakuul’s custody. And Arcann wouldn’t take the risk of freezing him again. No, nothing he could escape. The Jedi would die.

If he had the Jedi, then he’d have Fiika in custody…

She wouldn’t want him to kill the Jedi.

Perhaps the Jedi could-

With a start Arcann sat up, forcing himself out of dozing. Had… he _had_ just considered keeping the Jedi alive simply because he assumed Fiika would want him too.

No.

It would be the weak thing to do, let his enemy live to fight another day. The Jedi would have to die- But Fiika-

Arcann let his anger rise to a simmer.

She made him weak. Made him foolish. She…

He would find a way to combat whatever she’d infected him with. Find a way to rid her from his thoughts. Find a way to rid himself of guilt.

Arcann leaned forward and studied the datapad again.

A new area, the darkest part of the swamp, caught his eye. There was something odd about the metallic readings…

* * *

 

Koth paused in his soldering.

HK was….

He looked around the corner and gaped in confusion.

The droid was…

Was it that important to know what the droid was doing, other than making a mess? Koth decided no, that wasn’t important to him. But it was important to the boulder and iknayids the droid was blasting into ash.

He went back to fixing the last of the broken wires.

* * *

 

Fiika slid out of the exhaust tube. “Should be good to go.”

Koth threw the switch for the engines to start.

With a roar, they came to life. Power surged through the lights overhead, the air vents pumped out a stale breeze, the floor rumbled.

And then they shut back down.

“That was… rather exciting for about a moment.” Fiika hopped back up to crawl into the engine. “Let me see what cut them off.”

“Be careful,” Lord Beniko warned.

She wriggled through the opening and called back out, voice echoing. “I’m going to need a servodriver. The intake capacitor’s loose. The vibrations must’ve jarred it enough to break the circuit.”

Koth’s hand appeared with the specified tool. She reached deep into the engine, securing the capacitor to the base of the engine. She climbed back out. “Try again.”

He hit the switch.

The engines roared to life for good.

Lord Beniko sighed in relief. “Now we need to just sort out how to get this out of the water.”

“Yeah.” Koth headed towards the door. “Let me see if I can pilot from the cockpit. We could just raise the ship out and let the water drain out.”

“If it’ll rise with the water in it.” Lord Beniko followed him, frowning.

Fiika smiled and patted the engine closest to her, now alone in the engine room. The air was already growing warm, combatting the chills racing down her arms.

It wasn’t enough. She took the kolto from her belt and injected herself.

It was almost gone.

Lord Beniko’s stash had long since been exhausted; this was the exiles’. They’d nearly forced her to take it. Payment for taking them somewhere safe, they’d insisted.

She groaned as the icy fingers left her body.

The Gravestone rocked.

_Taking off already, are we?_

“GET READY FOR A FIGHT, PEOPLE!” Koth’s voice burst from the speakers. “THEY FOUND US! SKYTROOPERS BREAKING THE ENTRANCE.”

She took off for the bridge.

* * *

 

“WATCH THE SHIP!” Koth protested as a stray bolt hit the wall. “I JUST FIXED THAT!”

Fiika bobbed around him and shot forward, vibro-daggers flashing as she carved the offending Skytrooper into scrap.

“Compliment.” HK-55 nodded to Fiika. “Fine dismantling, Master Allos.”

“That’s just the first wave,” Koth muttered darkly. He stepped back into the bridge. “They’ll have more on the way.”

Master Pattik turned towards the entrance. “I’ll head them off.”

“The Gravestone will be ready soon. I just need-“

“Don’t say 3 minutes,” said Master Pattik, Lord Beniko, and Fiika in unison.

Koth shrugged sheepishly. “Buy me some time. I’ll get us airborne.” He grabbed HK-55 and pulled him into the bridge. “Until I say so, don’t touch anything!” He locked the bridge door behind him.

Lord Beniko spoke. “Pattik, I’m with you.”

Fiika followed them to the Gravestone’s entrance. It was her duty to back up Lord Beniko, and she would. Even if it was against…

“Koth did say there’d be more on the way,” she said in a small voice, staring at what awaited them in the swamp.

Master Pattik stared up at the Skytroopers raining down from the dropships. He took a deep breath to steel himself.

“Something I’ve learned to count on regarding Arcann…” Lord Beniko activated her lightsaber and stepped out into the muck. “There will always be more.” She Force-leapt at the Skytroopers.

Fiika drew her vibro-daggers and charged after the Sith.

Master Pattik rushed past her, lightsaber flashing as he forged a path to Lord Beniko. She followed his trail of droid parts, stabbing anything that dared move and ducking under blasterfire.

Lord Beniko stood at the center of a mob, brute strength and livid slashes of her lightsaber keeping the Skytroopers at bay.

Fiika spun left. Her daggers glinted in the flashes of blasterfire, little arcs of deadly light as she moved from droid to droid.

And then-

She was standing in a swamp filled with dismembered Skytroopers.

Lord Beniko’s face was coated in sweat. Master Pattik looked drained.

“That can’t possibly be- “

A rumble of an engine cut her off.

A dropship appeared, and out flew a Skytrooper. It lacked the customary white armor; instead it was black and stood about ten feet tall.

“Stars above,” whispered Fiika.

More Skytroopers cascaded out of the dropship, filing into perfect lines behind the Command droid.

Lord Beniko and Master Pattik slowly backtracked to Fiika.

Master Pattik’s face was stony.

Lord Beniko… looked resigned. “There are too many.”

“We have to keep fighting.” Master Pattik took up a defensive stance. “Koth needs time.”

Fiika traded her daggers for her blaster. “Ready when you are, My Lord.”

The comm on Master Pattik’s wrist flicked on. “Hey, you three need a hand out there?”

“No, we have help.” Lord Beniko’s voice was optimistic.

“You what?”

A flash of brightness in the fog caught Fiika’s attention. Koth remained unanswered as the trio watched the speeder-bike in the distance grow steadily closer.

A figure in pale clothes sat astride it, and as she neared…

_She’s going to crash._

The woman leapt off the speeder at the last minute, the height of her jump only achievable with the Force. The bike plowed into the Command droid and the two lines of Skytroopers behind it.

The woman landed gracefully beside them.

Fiika couldn’t deny that it was an impressive entrance; if a little reckless.

The newcomer was tall, heavily armored in white Knight gear, and the lines decorating her face spoke of stress, worry, and age.

Fiika put her in her late forties.

“You’re late,” Lord Beniko admonished.

The Newcomer didn’t say anything. She nodded a greeting to Lord Beniko.

Fiika spoke up. “You got a Knight to switch sides.”

“Not all of us blindly follow Arcann,” the newcomer said scathingly. She gave Fiika a once-over. “I thought you were rescuing one.”

“Plan’s changed.” Lord Beniko nodded to another dropship. “More resistance. Knights.”

A Knight in silver armor lead the group to stand before the Skytroopers. “High Justice, we have the Outlanders.”

Lord Beniko glanced over at the newcomer. “I do hope you’re up to fighting your own, Senya.”

“My issue isn’t with them,” she snarled. “But if they’re going to stand in my way…”

“I see you’ve found another pragmatist.”

Senya turned her icy glare onto Fiika. “Stow the chatter. Prove you can fight.”

Fiika slowly drew her daggers and took her place behind Lord Beniko. “Whenever you’re ready.”

The silver Knight shouted to them. “Thought you could hide in the swamps? Pathetic! The Emperor will be avenged.”

And Knights charged.

Fiika backed up as one rushed her. She spun and drove a dagger between armor plates.

In response, she was Force-pushed away.

She dropped into a roll and bounced to her feet.

The Knight was already on her.

Instinct kicked in. Fiika shot left, twisted, and managed to nick the Knight’s neck before having to dance out of reach of the lightsaber pike.

The Knight seemed to be enraged that she’d managed to wound them. And so the Knight charged.

Fiika turned and ran across the battlefield. “Catch me if you can!” She pushed herself into a sprint.

_It’s here somewhere… There._

Fiika stopped in the faint shadow of an enormous tree.

The Knight stopped about ten feet back, suspicious. “Surrender!”

“I appreciate the offer, but I enjoy breathing.” She drew back an arm, as if to throw a dagger, and flicked her arm forward.

The Knight flinched. It was human nature to flinch, lest something hit them before they tensed up.

But no knife hit the Knight.

Slowly the Knight realized this, and eagerly spun their lightsaber pike.

Fiika smiled smugly. “Give my regards to your Emperor in the afterlife.”

And then hundreds of millions of infant, bulbous iknayids poured down onto the knight from the great egg-sac above.

The Knight screamed and threw their pike away to try and scramble from the downpour of bugs.

Fiika picked up the pike and headed back to battle.

The Knight would not be joining them for the rest of it.

Lord Beniko was facing off against two Knights, outmatched but holding her own.

Master Pattik had taken on the remaining three with Senya.

The silver-armored one stood atop a boulder. “Knights! Zildrog’s wedge!”

The Knights fell back.

“We have the girl and the Jedi. You may kill the others.”

The Knights charged. Fiika dropped the pike and tried to match the ferocity of the one coming for her. But she was empty, tired, cold starting to pool in her bones from the kolto healing wounds, not keeping her warm. The Knights were fresh.

She was not going to win this fight, not without an advantage.

Fiika whirled away in a flurry of slashes and tried to find something to-

Master Pattik screamed, the back of his robes torn and singed. A deep red wound ran along the length of his spine.

The Knight she was fighting booted her in her chest.

Fiika stumbled away, coughing.

Lord Beniko Force-pushed the Knight away, locked in a duel with one of her own. “Get out of here, Fiika! Save yourse- “

The Knight disarmed her.

And time stopped.

Literally.

Lord Beniko’s lightsaber hung in the air.

Blaster bolts from the Skytroopers remained still.

Master Pattik was a statue frozen in the middle of toppling over.

“I take it you have questions?” It was the sickly charismatic voice from her dream, but no longer encased in her mind. The speaker was coming from behind her.

Fiika slowly turned around, and stumbled away, fist in her mouth to block the scream.

It was Valkorian.


	6. An Extra Passenger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fiika and the rest of the group escape Zakuul.

His ghost was staring at her with unsettling intensity.

Fiika stepped forward, dagger raised. “You’re dead.”

Valkorian smirked in amusement. “Am I?”

“I shot you.”

“Yet here I am.” He gazed around with disinterest. “Don’t be so surprised. Where you go, I go.”

“Explain.”

Valkorian appeared to have little want to discuss any explanation, but obliged. “We are indivisible now.”

_So you were real in the dream._

“I assure you, I am real, as is my intent to see you flourish.” He smiled faintly at her blink of surprise. “Yes, I can hear your thoughts if I so please.” Valkorian stepped through a tree. “You have had a taste of my son’s Empire, his reach, witnessed his weakness. And Vaylin. She does not believe in restraint.” He stopped, still remaining out of stabbing distance. “We can only defeat Arcann if we work together.”

“He’s your son.”

“He has attempted to kill me repeatedly. And manipulated you into doing it for him when he failed.” He stepped closer, stared down his nose at her.

Her sweat was making the dagger handles slippery. “I don’t buy for one moment that you’re on my side.” Fiika lunged forward, her daggers plunging into his vaporous chest.

Pain burst in her lungs.

Fiika fell to her side, screaming.

Valkorian continued as if she wasn’t curled up in the muck, sobbing in agony. “Were the roles reversed, perhaps I would be skeptical as well. But what if I could prove my sincerity?” He knelt and placed a hand on her forehead.

The pain, the cold… it all vanished. She felt normal all of a sudden.

“Would you continue to see me as your eternal nemesis, or would you open your eyes to the truth?”

Fiika scrambled away from him. “And what of the truth? You murdered Ziost and preach lies!”

“Ziost was an unfortunate side effect.” He stood and faced the immobile battle, staring intently as Lord Beniko. “This is an opportunity, Fiika. You are outmatched. Death is all but certain for your Sith friend… and the Jedi...” He silently studied Master Pattik. “He could be saved. I could save them both. I only require the briefest moment of control.” Valkorian turned to her, hands outstretched. “Accept my help or watch them die.”

She slipped in the mud. “No,” she growled. “I’ll never give in to you, you monster!” Fiika shot towards him, knives flashing.

The ghost disappeared.

Lord Beniko screamed in pain. Master Pattik fell forward, howling in agony and twitching. He collapsed into the marsh.

Something flew over her shoulder and landed on the nearest Knight.

And the Knight exploded.

HK-55 thudded past her, rifle spitting out bolts that the knights couldn’t all block. They fell.

“WE CAN DO THIS!” Koth roared.

Fiika winced and turned, seeing him beside her.

“Keep fighting. They haven’t killed you yet.”

“No,” she agreed.

_But the cold just might do it._

Whatever Valkorian had done had worn off the moment time had gone back to normal. Her fingers painfully felt as if they were coated in ice. She couldn’t raise her blaster as shivers overtook her.

“Lana!”

Fiika raised her head to see Koth help Lord Beniko up. Her hand… half her right hand was missing. Her sleeve was sliced away, exposing a horrendous amount of charred skin. She’d need medical attention. Soon.

Lord Beniko nodded gratefully. “Koth, thank you.” She took a deep breath and whipped her head around. “Pattik!”

_No, not Master Pattik-_

“Help me lift him.” Lord Beniko got on side of him and Koth the other; together they heaved him up.

“That doesn’t look good.” Koth winced as he got a good look at Master Pattik’s wound. “I mean, that really doesn’t look good.”

Lord Beniko gestured for Fiika to open the door to the Gravestone. “Is the Gravestone ready for takeoff?”

HK-55 grabbed Fiika’s arm and before she could protest, the droid injected her with kolto. Kolto that would be better for Master Pattik or Lord Beniko, not wasted on her. It would be something to tell the droid later.

After the Gravestone was up in space.

Koth hobbled through the entrance. “Far as I can tell.” He glanced over his shoulder at Fiika and HK-55. “Looks like we got everyone. Let’s go.”

“No- wait.” Lord Beniko winced at her arm and stared into the swamp. “Where’s Senya?”

That was a good question. Fiika spun around and saw the Knight striding towards them, mouth a severe line.

She felt like she was a little schoolgirl being sent to detention.

“Excuse me? Where’s who?” Koth asked accusingly.

“I was about to go looking for you.” Fiika nodded at Senya.

“Here I am. Let’s move out.” Senya switched places with Lord Beniko, pulling Master Pattik’s arm over her shoulders. “Come on. He needs bacta.”

Koth stared at her. “Whoa, wait a minute.” He blinked and a sneer twisted itself into existence on his face. “Hang on. She’s your help?” The dark look he sent Lord Beniko wasn’t flattering. “If you think I’m letting that piece of work on my ship, you’re out of your-”

Fiika stepped between them, pointed to Master Pattik. “He needs medical help!”

“Yes,” Senya agreed. She started moving Master Pattik.

Koth’s frown got nastier. “Hey! You’re not coming on my ship.”

“Koth, we’ll worry about this later, Master Pattik needs kolto!”

“I don’t want her on my ship!”

“Listen to the girl, Vortena-”

“INTERJECTION!” boomed HK-55 over them. When the quieted, his eyelights dimmed in satisfaction. “Many more hostiles are approaching. Permission to defend with extreme prejudice?”

Lord Beniko pointed with her good hand at Koth. “No more fighting. We must leave Zakuul. Give me his arm and prepare the engines.”

He practically threw Master Pattik’s arm at the Sith and stalked off.

“Go with him, Fiika. He’ll need a co-pilot.”

She paused. “My Lord, your hand-”

“Getting off Zakuul should be your highest priority,” snapped Senya. “Go keep that man from dooming us all.”

Fiika spun on her heel and jogged after Koth.

 

* * *

 

He aggressively threw open the door, aggressively stomped across the bridge, and aggressively threw himself into the captain’s seat. And then aggressively buckled himself into the chair.

Koth winced.

He’d just pinched a very… sensitive part of himself in the seat harness.

“Koth, I’m sending all power to the engines.”

“Okay,” he squeaked.

“Are you alright?”

He waved Fiika away and cleared his throat. “Yeah, just firing up the engines… I hope.” He crossed his fingers.

HK-55 entered the bridge and stood behind him.

The engines rumbled to life. Slowly Koth babied the controls back, easing the thrusters into position. He added more power, watching for any warning lights.

The Gravestone started to rise.

The great ship creaked and groaned and protested, but Izak above, she was rising.

He grinned over at Fiika, almost giddy. “We’re doing it… We’re actually doing it. Can you believe it?”

HK-55 beat her to answering. “Observation: The ship is rising. Conclusion: Belief is not required.”

Fiika burst out laughing and spun in her chair. “YES!” She laid a hand on HK-55. “Glad you worked that out. We’re getting off Zakuul.” She spun again, beaming.

Koth tore his eyes away and spoke into his comm. “How about that, Lana! My Gravestone can move!”

Silence.

The exhilaration of escaping the Knights disappeared as soon it’d come. It was a small victory, but Lana and Pat had been wounded… were they okay?

“Do you think…” he didn’t want to finish the sentence.

Fiika rested a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll check on them. You keep us off the radar.”

He nodded. “Will do. Get them up here if they’re okay. We’re going to need all hands on deck.”

 

* * *

 

Senya pinched her lips together, pulling her hands away. “That’s as good as I can do.”

Lana nodded at her. “That’s all I can ask of you.”

Senya noted the dreadful gaze the Sith directed at the Jedi. “He’ll make it. You said so yourself, he’s a powerful Force-user.”

“We need him. He’s the only person in the galaxy who’s ever managed to best Arcann.”

_Yes, he took my boy’s arm._

“Let me have your arm.”

Lana shook her head. “No, save your strength. I can heal it myself.”

She snorted doubtfully. “Lana, you do not heal. That trauma is not something you can just block out. Give me your arm.” Senya held out her hand expectantly. She’d… well, she’d never actually tried to heal an injury this severe, not even with other Knights.

Slowly Lana raised her wounded arm, staring at it in morbid disbelief.

Senya kept the grimace off her face. It was unpleasant, certainly. Half the Sith’s right hand and a decent chunk of her forearm had been sliced away all in one go. It was a small thing that at least it’d been a lightsaber and not a knife that had done this to her, or Lana would have bled out before even getting onto the ship.

“There’s not anything you can do, is there? It will need surgery and cybernetics.” Lana nodded, staring through her hand.

“Take some kolto-”

“No.” Lana shook her head. “If Pattik needs it, or Fiika-”

“That girl is fine.” Senya frowned at Lana’s fierce look.  “She wasn’t wounded.”

“She has carbonite poisoning from being frozen by Arcann. Her body can’t maintain its temperature without kolto. I’m hoping there’s treatment on Asylum. For all of us.”

The med-bay door flew open and Fiika took them all in with eyes the size of saucers. “Everyone alright?”

Senya glanced at Pattik.

He lay on his belly on a cushion-less cot, tunic torn away and kolto smeared across the deep gash along his spine. She’d tried healing him, but nerve damage… that was out of her league. A professional surgeon would have to fix him up and give him cybernetics.

“Is everyone alright?” the girl repeated unnecessarily.

“Yes.” Senya paused, considering the answer. “Relatively.”

“Koth would like us on the bridge.”

_Can that traitor not fly the ship alone?_

Lana turned to her. “Do you think Pattik will be fine here alone?”

Senya nodded. “There was a woman, a refugee, in the corridor. I’ll get her to watch him and call us if anything happens.”

 

* * *

 

“Where are we going?” Fiika buckled herself into the co-pilot seat beside him as the Gravestone left the outer atmosphere of Zakuul.

Koth resisted the urge to crack a joke. Now was not the time. “Somewhere safe. As- Incoming!” The controls lit up, alarms sounded.

It wasn’t good.

Lana appeared in his line of vision, staring out in space. “What is it?”

He caught sight of her hand and looked away before he made sense of the blackened flesh and scorched sleeve “Dropping out of hyperspace. It’s…” the dots appearing on the sensors weren’t spreading out; and more were coming… it turned into a solid mass of dots. “It’s a lot.”

And hundreds upon hundreds of ships appeared from nowhere.

“The Eternal Fleet,” breathed a voice belonging to someone Koth was currently pretending wasn’t on his ship.

Fiika’s face was bloodless. “This… this must’ve been what Lord Marr saw…”

That wasn’t the problem at the moment. Koth toggled a couple dials, amping up the shields. “They aren’t firing,” he said tersely.

No one voiced that they were all thinking.

Why?

 

* * *

 

The little blip slowly rose towards his Fleet.

A tiny little insect against a swarm of ruthless warships.

Arcann watched it, almost daring the Gravestone to turn around and head back to surrender in the face of futility.

Something told him that Fiika would not surrender. She hadn’t technically surrendered to him when he’d taken her prisoner years ago.

“Ugly ship,” Vaylin sneered. She turned to look at him, smiling pleasantly. “What are you waiting for?”

For a chance.

A chance to do what, he wasn’t certain. He… he did not want to give the order and have Fiika killed, but to let them escape… It would be better for Zakuul if they all were dead. Or in a tractor beam.

“Take it,” he ordered.

And the Fleet opened fire.

 

* * *

 

Something was smoking, alarms were blaring, and Koth was somehow managing to be heard over them.

“HK, SEE ABOUT THAT HYPERDRIVE! LANA, WORK THE SHIELDS, SENYA- DON’T TOUCH ANYTHING.” He blindly swatted at Fiika. “WE NEED A GUNNER!”

She unstrapped herself and roared back. “I’LL TAKE CARE OF IT!”

Fiika stumbled out the bridge door as the Gravestone rocked from another hit.

It was Marr’s ship all over again.

The alarms, the shouting, the-

_Skytroopers._

A pair of droids opened fire on her. They had to have snuck in during the swamp fight.

Fiika sprinted towards them and threw both daggers overhand.

The Skytroopers fell with blades penetrating their batteries.

She collected her daggers and continued to the cannon’s controls.

 

* * *

 

Koth yelped as the scanners on his right sparked.

_Come on, Fiika…_

The shield warning light flicked on.

_Izak help us._

“Omnicannon’s up,” Fiika’s voice echoed from the intercom.

He grinned. “There’s a capital ship near the center. With the gold-”

“I see it.”

“Good,” he spat sarcastically at being interrupted. “Now hit it.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said crisply.

Koth boosted the shield power for another moment before cutting it for the Omnicannon to fire. If it didn’t work…

A rumble built from belowdeck; and then-

_Holy Emperor._

A beam of bright light had shout out and decimated the capital ship into dust.

He hit the intercom. “Target down- wait.” Koth stared in awe as connecting ships also exploded. “Five targets- ten- I can’t keep up!”

“Your counting skills or how fast they’re imploding?”

He made a face at the intercom. “It’s real. We could take the whole fleet.”

It was real. The Gravestone was real. They had a chance.

Koth reverently took the controls, prayers on his lips.

“Statement: The hyperdrive now meets minimum functioning requirements.”

The words died in Koth’s throat as he spun to glare at the droid. “Why didn’t you say so?” He double-checked the coordinates and prepared the engines. “Alright, let’s get out of here.”

 

* * *

 

He sat frozen in disbelief.

The hologram wasn’t lying, he’d seen it out the Spire’s endless windows himself.

_Twenty-five ships._

No.

Arcann threw himself from the Throne and paced before it. No, no, he was stronger than this, smarter than this. He was no failure. He spun and glared accusingly at Vaylin. If she’d only been able to stop them when they were escaping the Spire…

“More than two dozen ships in a single shot,” he practically roared.

She was white with anger. “So that’s the Gravestone. It’s as powerful as they say.”

He paced past her. “Everything stands at risk. Zakuul. The Throne. My vision for the galaxy,” he spat. “All because we let those outlanders get away and discover that ship!” Arcann turned and saw the flicker in her eyes.

No, she was not to blame.

He held up a hand to calm her. Being on the receiving end of what she could do… “I’m not blaming you.”

“I didn’t think you were,” she fired back.

Now guilt at hurting her had joined the ugly mixture of emotions he could barely control. Her feelings would be the easier to repair.

Arcann forced himself to physically relax. “Father held us all back- you more than any.”

She squinted suspiciously.

He continued, sensing her anger beginning to fade. “Such raw power and yet you’re still spreading your wings, finding your limits.”

Vaylin smirked at the flattery, knowing exactly what he was doing. “Nice to be appreciated for a change.” She leaned against the armrest of the Throne. “So what now?”

Arcann stared out at space. Fiika was out of his reach for the time being, but he could set a trap for her to walk into, and he could… He wasn’t yet sure what he wanted with her.

“Now I act.”

 

* * *

 

“NO! No, no, no!” Koth kicked the panel and Fiika could see the regret on his face as he limped away.

_Koth: Zero. Gravestone: One._

Lord Beniko cradled her wounded arm awkwardly to her chest, pain apparent in her expression. “What happened?”

He glowered at the controls, pissed. “The hyperdrive worked- one time. Omnicannon’s fried, too.” The panel he’d kicked sparked. “What a mess.”

Fiika fiddled with one of her knives. “We’re safely away from the Fleet, if nothing else.”

“We should be able to make it to Asylum. Hopefully..” He shot a small smile at her.

“An asylum?” Fiika sat up, forcing her smile to remain hidden. “Finally being committed, My Lord? Ready to admit your dedication to your work might be a problem?”

Lord Beniko shook her head in amusement. “Not that kind of asylum, and no.”

“Asylum is a skyport.” Senya crossed her arms. “A safe haven from Arcann’s patrols.”

Koth turned his foul glare onto her as he spoke to Lord Beniko. “Was she really necessary?”

Fiika tucked her hands into her armpits to stave off the cold.

Lord Beniko looked if she had little patience left. “She helped us escape from Zakuul. She fought at our side!”

“She also hunted me like an animal for years! She was Arcann’s loyal Knight!”

Senya stepped between the two, eyes frigid. “I thought I was in service to Zakuul,” she growled in Koth’s face. “You had abandoned your responsibilities!”

Fiika stood and pushed them away from each other. “Enough! We need to get the ship fixed, and it sounds like the two of you are on the same side now.” She shoved a finger in both their faces, schooling her face into the stern disapproving look her mother had often used on her students. “Whatever history you have, it's best to let it go!”

Koth glared right back at her. “You don’t know what she’s capable of. You weren’t there.”

“Do they know what you’re capable of, Vortena?” Senya shot back coolly. She stepped away, “If anybody needs me, I’ll be… somewhere.” She left the bridge.

Koth wasn’t satisfied with losing the argument. “You could have at least consulted with me first!” he fired at Lord Beniko.

She fixed him with a level look, not falling for the bait. “Yes, I wonder how that might have gone. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to find some bandages.”

Fiika sighed.

He remained stiff with frustration as he kicked the panel again.

“Koth-”

He opened the bridge doors. “ABSOLUTELY! I’D BE GLAD TO FIX THE GRAVESTONE BY MYSELF!”

Fiika laid a hand on his arm. “Take a deep breath and calm yourself. I’ll help.”

Koth shut his eyes. “Fine. You fix that panel.”

 

* * *

 

The panel was as good as it was going to get, and that was very little improvement compared to the state it’d been in before becoming acquainted with Koth’s durasteel-tipped boot.

Fiika rocked back on her heels, frowning.

A tear leaked out.

It wasn’t five years for her.

It was barely a few months.

_Mum, Luuko, the family… Never going to have Uncle Garo’s secret family recipe cupcakes…_

She wiped the tear away and silenced the grief for a more appropriate time.

It was time to find something else to fix. And find Koth.

 

* * *

 

He swore for Izak to take that power core as well as it zapped his finger.

At least it wasn’t numb like the other.

Yet.

Koth frowned up at the mildly charred hyperdrive, debating if it was even worth salvaging at this point. The capacitors were mostly ruined, some of the wiring had been home to Iknayids, and those iknayids were now smoking and their waste was collected on top of what looked like important circuits.

It was gross.

And some bug parts were burned onto the wiring. Nothing short of a good ol’ scrub would get them off, but that would ruin it.

He tried moving another power core to get behind it.

A spark flew off and kissed the tip of his finger.

“OW!” He tensed in pain and smacked his forehead on the frame.

“Are you alright?”

Koth slid out from under the hyperdrive and glared at the owner of the accented voice. “Why can’t there be a maintenance manual?” He rubbed the sore spot on his forehead, sighed as he realized his hands were covered in grease. Great. Just another thing to go right. He pointed to a control panel. “Hey, can you cut the power? Right over there. Wouldn’t want to electrocute myself on top of everything else.”

Fiika strode across the room and hit the switch.

He got a nice view of her rear, and it was a nice view.

_Don’t think like that. You’ve got other things to focus on. Come on!_

But Koth’s mind and mouth were not on the same wavelength. He blamed hitting his head and the various electrocutions of his hands.

“She’s really something, this ship, but no one’s been taking care of her.”

That sounded a lot more obvious that he’d thought.

Fiika glanced at him over her shoulder. “You’ve grown attached rather quickly.”

_Are… are you… flirt. Was that a flirt back?_

His brain took over. “No offense, but it’s the Gravestone that will save the galaxy from Arcann. Not Pattik, or you-”

_DON’T SAY THAT!_

“Not me,” he continued. “Definitely not Senya.”

She sat down beside him. “What did Senya do to deserve this grudge?” Fiika stuck her head under the hyperdrive and groaned. “That’s rancid in there, that is.”

Koth sighed. “Senya was ruthless. After we deserted, she hunted us for months. Everyone on my crew bled more than once on account of her.” He’d lost his ship because of her. “I put all my trust in Lana and she goes to Senya for help. She does not know what she’s getting us into.”

Fiika emerged from under the hyperdrive and watched him silently.

Koth kept on going. He had to rant to someone, and she seemed to get that this wasn’t something to interrupt. Not to be bottled up or whatever the saying was.

“Senya acts according to… I don’t know what,” Koth spat. “Her own narrow concept of justice, maybe. Even if her objectives align with yours, that doesn’t mean she’ll do what needs to be done- believe me. Just…” He offered up a calm expression. “Don’t forget who dropped everything to storm the Spire and help Lana, alright?”

“Are you saying that if it weren’t for you, I’d still be a decoration?”

“No!” He rolled his eyes at her teasing smile. “You had me there for a moment.”

“I know. Lord Beniko told me I wasn’t the one you went to rescue, but I appreciate you looking out for me.” She brushed her hands off on her pants. “So now you’ve rescued a Jedi and a pilot. What’s your focus now?”

She was sitting close to him, smelling like kolto and eyes smiling.

“The ship, of course,” Koth answered.

She blinked and the smile was gone from her eyes.

_COME ON, MAN, KEEP IT TOGETHER._

“But that could change,” he added. He took a deep breath and smelled smoke.

Was it another iknayid burning?

Hell, he hoped not. “I uh… I should get back to it.” He motioned to the hyperdrive. “Need to be sure the Gravestone can get us all the way to Asylum. Maybe you should check in on Lana. See how that wound is doing.”

Wound… he hadn’t gotten a good look on the bridge, and he didn’t want to.

“Alright, I’ll leave you to it.” Fiika stood and paused, reaching down to pat his hair.

“What are you-”

“Your hair was smoking.”

 

* * *

 

Lana shut her eyes, aimed her arm at the dummy set up in the gun locker, and shot it full of lightning.

Or, rather, that was her intention

Pain roared up her arm, sparks weakly trailed from her fingertips to the floor.

She hissed and bent over, cradling her hand to her chest.

Bad idea.

Any pressure made it worse. It’d been unpleasant when the refugee woman had cut away her sleeve and glove to wrap it up in kolto and bandages. Healing it through the Force hurt too much. But now…

Lana forced the pain into anger. Arcann had done this, it was his fault, and she’d use this fury. She pointed at the dummy, envisioning Zakuul’s Emperor. Lightning shot from her fingers.

And pain beyond anything she’d felt before sent her to her knees.

Tears welled on their own accord.

She couldn’t breathe.

Lana forced a deep breath. Accept the hurt. Slowly she stood back up and leaned against the wall, sweat sliding down her hairline. “Damn,” she whispered.

“Might I look at that?”

Lana’s eyes flew open and she stared at Fiika.

_I did not sense you there._

“I’ll heal… or manage the pain, for now. No point in wasting supplies until we reach Asylum and can restock.” Lana could feel that mystery presence around Fiika again… and it was gone, like that.

The girl was staring at the plasteel body across the room. “Is the dummy a stand in?”

Lana half-smiled. “Always someone I find infuriating. A number of people take turns. It’s therapeutic. I’ve been doing it since I was an Acolyte on Korriban.”

“Was it ever me?” Fiika’s grin told Lana it wasn’t a serious question, only meant to lighten the mood and take her mind off her arm.

“Once, after you attempted to make dinner for me and Theron on Rishii, and then snuck out so it was just the two of us. The flowers on the table were not appreciated. Nor was the candlelight.” Lana shook her head. “To change the subject, however, I was right to reach out to Senya. I hope you see that.”

Fiika studied the dummy and bounced on her toes. “I was hesitant when you and Agent Shan began communications, but that worked out well. Senya’s a good fighter, helped us escape the Knights… I’d say she’s an asset.” She jumped forward and roundhouse kicked the dummy. Fiika did a series of punches and ended the quick burst with an elbow jab to the face. “I’m a bit rusty.”

Lana didn’t dare try the lightning again. “I haven’t noticed anything. But Senya doesn’t give up, either. That was clear the first time I encountered her. We met shortly after I arrived in Wild Space. Senya was hunting Koth, I was hoping to learn Pattik’s fate…” She paused at the look on Fiika’s face. “We all thought you died on Marr’s ship.”

“Yeah…”

Lana flicked her eyes away from the forlorn look on her face. “We exchanged what information we could. This was all before I really knew Koth, of course. Years ago.”

Fiika stared blankly across the room. “Years ago for me still feels like when I joined Intelligence. Not… Not what really did happen years ago.”

_Ziost._

She shook her head and gave Lana a forced smile. “Those two will have to get past their differences.”

“It won’t be easy…” She dared glance at her arm. “I suppose I should get back to… healing.”

That was a lie and they both knew it.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Fiika warned.

“I will take the suggestion under advisement. And you should get to know Senya. I’m not sure you’ll hit it off, exactly, but I think you’ll find her intriguing.”

Fiika nodded. “I’ll find her after I fix some air vents. It’s rather cold in here.”

Lana looked up. “No, actually, it’s quite warm. Do you need more kolto?”

“It’s not the usual shivers. Just…” Fiika shrugged. “I feel cold, but it’s not the same cold?”

_That doesn’t sound promising. Don’t tell me you’ve built up an immunity to kolto already._

She reached over and felt Fiika’s forehead. “You’re burning up. Do you feel like you have a fever?”

“No.”

Lana frowned, puzzled. “Could-”

The Force sent out a warning. Not from Fiika but-

“Pattik!” Lana pushed past Fiika and broke into a sprint towards the med-bay. The Jedi’s life-Force was jumping around, fading and surging. She skidded to a stop in the doorway.

Pattik was still on his belly, but his back… it looked worse. The flesh around the deep wound was swollen and leaking fluid, some of it scabbed, some of it a foul gray/green color. He was covered in sweat and twitching.

“Get me some kolto.” Lana grabbed a nearby washcloth and dipped it into a water container. She wiped his forehead.

Fever.

“Fiika, I need kolto now! I think it’s infected and he’s running a dangerously high fever. Fiika!”

“Lo-Lord Beniko?”

Lana whipped her head around.

_No._

Fiika was as white as a sheet, lips blue and shaking. “I… I can’t feel my fingers.” She tipped over sideways.

Lana slammed her bad hand down on the intercom and roared into it. “MED-BAY, EVERYONE, NOW! FIIKA AND PATTIK NEED HELP!” She turned back to them.

Both were in bad shape.

_Hang on… both of you._

 

* * *

 

“HOLD HER DOWN, VORTENA!”

“I AM!”

“Senya, do something with him, I’m-”

“She needs that kolto!” Koth snapped.

“If he doesn’t get it, he could die!”

“She’s going to if she doesn’t get it!”

Fiika choked on the ice in her lungs. She couldn’t move her arms or legs, everything… everything was burning with cold and ice and was prickling with numbness.

She opened her eyes and found Koth holding her down by the arms. Senya was at her side, looking over at Lord Beniko and Master Pattik-

_Oh Force help him._

Master Pattik was not in good shape.

“Fiika’s awake,” announced Koth. He tilted her head to look at him. “Hang on, you’ll be alright.”

“Obviously, I’m in the med-bay.”

“Lana, I can help him.” Senya took the kolto from Lord Beniko and gently ran her hands over Master Pattik’s back.

He growled in pain.

Ice was creeping up Fiika’s neck. “I… I’m freezing. I’m being frozen. I- I-” It hit her jaw and she couldn’t scream as her head erupted in pain.

Koth’s face faded to blackness.

 

* * *

 

Someone was humming.

On key, too.

Fiika realized her mouth was dry and cracked open her eyes.

Senya was folding med-bay blankets, now devoid of her armor and looking a lot less severe without it. She was the source of the humming.

Master Pattik was unconscious on the other cot, gray and breathing ragged.

The humming built up.

Fiika forced open her lips. “My mum used to hum. She wasn’t very good at it. I used to tease her because she was a music teacher.”

Senya looked up, smiling faintly. “Water?”

“Please,” she croaked. Fiika was handed a water bottle.

“Sip it.” Senya felt her forehead. “Good sign. You’re warm again.”

Fiika leaned against the pillow staring out the little viewport.

Hyperspace stared back.

She looked around the room, but no, just her and Senya and an unconscious Pattik.

Yet she still felt… uncomfortable.

“How does the Grave make you feel?” Fiika pulled her blanket around her. “Like… what do you think if it?”

Senya eyed her. “I couldn’t help but take it in. A fable that’s real.” She tilted her head, a whimsical smile appearing. “Reminds me of a song I wrote.”

Fiika picked at her fingernails. “I feel like I’m being watched.”

“I can stop looking at you. Maybe that will help?” She shut her eyes and blindly folded a blanket into a misshapen bundle. “There. Better?... No?” Senya opened her eyes, crow’s feet crinkled in the corners of her eyes. “Worth a try.”

It was a terrible jab at humor, but terribly motherly and endearing as well.

Fiika studied her, watching the Knight continue humming as she moved on to folding sheets. “You seem nothing at all like the person I met in the swamp.”

That woman had snapped at her, dismissed her, been coarse and rough and tensed for a fight.

This Senya… reminded her of her mother in small ways.

The Knight gave her a cool, but still kind, look. “Being a Knight means everything, but I don’t let it define me. When it’s time to go to work, I’m who I need to be. The rest of the time…” She shrugged and met Fiika’s eye. “I’m just myself. You don’t strike me as all that different.”

Fiika pulled her knees up to her chest, watching her suspiciously. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Like me, I think you send parts of yourself deep down when it’s appropriate. I think that’s true for a lot of people.” Senya flicked out a sheet and it billowed across the room. She studied Fiika closely, voice soft. “I like to think it’s even true of Arcann.”

It would explain some things. He… maybe he hadn’t pushed whatever it was down far enough and that was why he hadn’t killed her, but let her be imprisoned.

Or whatever it was had reared its head in her cell and that was why he’d asked for her help in killing his father.

She hadn’t gotten sinister vibes from him the way she had Valkorian, but… Arcann was hunting her down to be put back in carbonite. A death sentence if she wasn’t cured of carbonite poisoning.

But then if that dream of being cold and carried out of carbonite wasn’t a dream, and the voice hadn’t taken on his appearance…

Had Arcann saved her from carbonite poisoning?

But then why re-freeze her?

It would explain the traces of bacta in her system when she’d be thawed by Lord Beniko…

Fiika pulled her mind out of her thoughts. “Why do you oppose him? What’s your reason?”

Senya blinked, eyes out of focus as she was lost in thought for a moment. Finally she spoke. “Years after the death of our Immortal Emperor, most are still so afflicted with remorse that they don’t see what’s happening to the rest of the galaxy.” She held up a pillowcase, staring sorrowfully at it. “Arcann has become oppressive and cruel.”

There was a barely noticeable tremor in her voice.

Fiika filed that information away for later.

“He’ll crush anyone who doesn’t share his plan for the galaxy.” Senya folded the case and kept her head turned down as she reached for another. “So that’s me. What about you?”

“I’m Lord Beniko’s personal pilot and back-up. If she wishes to go against Arcann, then I will support her endeavors.”

Senya’s look was doubtful.

Fiika squirmed on the cot. “Compared to Valkorian… Arcann could be worse I… I’m not particularly against him. He could have killed me multiple times and did not. But what I am against is his treatment of the Empire and Republic. I don’t want him to ruin them.”

“Neither do I. I may not know much of the worlds you inhabited, but I do know what he’s doing to them.” Senya picked up the stack of linens and frown at the rusty shelf in the storage unit. She replaced the stack back on the medical table. “You’re not what I expected. Not sure if that’s good or bad yet, but I do know I’ll have an easier time with you than Koth.”

“I hope you’ll try to get along. The more we work together, the better off we’ll be.” Fiika felt chills skate down her arms. “Might I have another blanket?”

Senya gently pushed her to lie back down, taking the water bottle and covering her with another blanket. “Just because he betrayed our enemy doesn’t change the fact that he was a traitor. You need to be cautious.” She stepped back and dimmed the lights with a wave of her hand. “And get some rest. We’re almost to Asylum.”

 

* * *

 

“Valkorian lives. He is not himself, nor has he taken a new body. It is… difficult to see. And yet… it is unmistakable.”

The voice washed over her. “His presence in the Force has always been deceptive.”

“Like on the Yavin moon.”

“Yes,” the voice said. “And many times before and since. Even when my life depended on it, I did not see him properly until it was too late…”

Satele Shan had sensed a change coming to the galaxy.

And Valkorian’s new host would play a pinnacle part.


	7. Commited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Adventures of Fiika on Asylum, from a hospital, to the Free Zone, and then to receive a lot of weird visions with the Scions. And the secret is out about the tagalong in her head. Master Pattik is also semi-back after informally having his spine kinda-sorta sliced down the middle.

Fiika stared out at the nebula in fascination. If she didn’t read the scanners, it looked like they were flying through a cloud glowing from the inside by the sun. She could pretend that it was a travel frigate, no one was chasing them, the clouds were just for cover because it was raining below…

The optimistic daydream ended as shivers shook her again.

The cold was getting worse, that was for certain. She had to be wrapped up in a spare coat from the refugees and then cocooned in a thermal blanket if she wanted to leave the med-bay.

And she was no use there.

Not when the Gravestone was slowly falling to pieces and Koth needed a co-pilot, not that he’d outright admit it.

“Approaching Asylum,” Lord Beniko stated from the navigator’s chair.

_I don’t see anything… yet. How small is this Asylum?_

Koth snorted. “Told you we’d make it.”

“We haven’t docked yet.”

“I should probably figure out how to land this thing…” Koth grinned. “Just the opposite of taking off, right?” He shot Fiika a concerned look. “You warm enough?”

“Plenty,” she fibbed. Having any of them worry over her wouldn’t do them any good, and it could prove a distraction. Best to keep the shivers hidden. Fiika turned and spoke over her shoulder to Lord Beniko. “There’s no way we’re keeping the Gravestone low-profile. If Arcann has agents here…”

The suggestion hung heavily in the air.

Silence filled the cockpit as Koth and Lord Beniko considered it.

“Asylum might be the only place in Wild Space free of his control,” Lord Beniko finally said. “The shadowport isn’t on any chart. It’s a haven for refugees fleeing Arcann’s forces.”

Koth nodded half-heartedly. “So no spies.” His voice rang with false cheerfulness.

The Gravestone broke through the nebula, the cockpit erupting into sunlight. A planet and moon greeted them, and-

_There it is. And- Stars, it’s huge!_

Asylum hung in the upper atmosphere of the planet, one long arm extended over the rest of the port. Windows glittered along the arm, and a couple little starfighters patrolled the skies around it like gnats. Real food was there, medical treatment, optimistically a proper ‘fresher. And clothes. Fiika’s Imperial uniform looked and smelled like it’d been trekking over swamps and repairing engines.

“We’ll be among friends,” Koth added. Fiika watched him frown as the door opened behind them. He sent a glare towards Senya as she entered. “Mostly,” he corrected himself.

Fiika rolled her eyes. They’d been bickering back and forth, and while they could be in the same room, being civil towards each other still seemed out of reach.

“Tell your associates we’ve arrived.”

“They knew that days ago,” snapped Senya at Lord Beniko.

Fiika eased back on the power to the thrusters as Asylum neared.

Koth wasn’t paying attention to the controls. “You want to explain how?” he asked accusingly. Senya didn’t respond. “Figures,” he grumbled.

“If we all don’t start trusting each other, we’re doomed,” Fiika warned. She trusted Lord Beniko and Master Pattik, yes, Koth and HK-55 to some extent, and Senya to slightly less for the sole reason of not knowing her as long. Of course, Fiika herself didn’t have a history like Koth and Senya’s… perhaps she was suggesting more than they were capable of, but they would have to overcome that.

Somehow.

“Demand: Are. We. There. Yet.”

Fiika flicked on the brakes, eyeing the narrow dock for the massive warship. It would a tight fit.

Except Koth was still giving HK-55 the stink eye, not watching the approaching dock…

“KOTH!” Fiika fired the thrusters on the portside, but-

The shrieking of metal against metal tore through the bridge.

He grimaced and righted the Gravestone.

It was too late, they were going to shear off a couple cargo lifts as they docked. And possibly crush a fueling cable.

She winced at the deafening thud as they came to a complete stop.

Making an entrance like that would quite likely give them a reputation as amateurs. Which… judging from the group of pirates approaching, wasn’t good. The pirates looked like they were going to want to board.

Fiika unbuckled herself, frowning. “There’s pirates heading towards us. We better head them off.”

Koth looked down at them, and smiled at her. “After you.”

Something about that was suspicious, but it could be figured out later. Fiika shrugged off the blanket for appearances sake and lead the way to the lifts.

Koth was unusually quiet, looking completely serious and making her uneasy.

“Are you alright?” she asked as they traveled down to the docking bay.

“Fine, yeah.”

Obviously not. The man was hiding something, but pressing him wouldn’t be wise. Especially with pirates to deal with.

The lift opened and the pair of them stepped out to see the pirates waiting at the end of the cargo bridge.

A very tall, very buff, and very bald man led the collection of misfits. He stood at ease in front of his crew, grinning savagely. “Mighty fine ship you’ve got there.” His dark eyes flicked to Fiika, giving her a once-over before returning to Koth. “We’ll be coming aboard.”

_Going to dismiss me, are you?_

She stepped down onto the bridge, fingertips resting on her daggers. “You bloody well won’t be. If there’s one thing I don’t like, it’s uninvited guests.”

_Hear that, Valkorian?_

The ghost haunting her mind remained silent. Perhaps he’d left after she’d refused his power?

The pirates stared at her appraisingly.

Koth stepped down next to her and shook his head.

The pirate leader held out his arms and beamed with happiness. “Captain!” He strode across the bridge and gave Koth an informal salute. “Good to see you.” The pirates slowly filtered into the docking bay.

Fiika slowly turned to Koth, fuming. “Captain?”

He smirked back, sweeping an arm towards the milling pirates. “Fiika… my crew. The best engine burners in wild space.”

“I should have known they’re with you. The resemblance is uncanny.”

“The roguish charm tip you off?” Koth hoisted himself back onto the Gravestone.

“No, the smell.”

He sent a teasing glare down at her before turning back to his crew. “GET MOVING, YOU MANGY WOOLUKS!” His roar was met with a mix of cheers and groans. “Len, help Lana move a wounded Jedi from the med-bay to the Asylum’s hospital.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Fiika stood on the docking bridge, watching the crew flit around like a well-oiled machine. Memories rose in her mind, popping when they reached the surface.

Marr’s ship, working as an engineer after… after Ziost. Head Engineer Pep roaring and them scurrying, already knowing his commands.

And before that, before becoming an Agent…

Her and Taai polishing their starfighter, working in tandem during practice runs and simulators. Her the pilot, Taai the gunner. An almost perfect team and completely in tune with the other.

And before that, just when she’d joined the Navy. Mum and Luuko seeing her off, warning her about basic training. In training she’d been taught how to not be an individual person, to be part of a team. One unit among many. A piece of a bigger picture, one note in a song.

Even Agent training had drilled that in further, hadn’t it? She wasn’t alone, she wasn’t in the spotlight. She was part of Lord Beniko’s team, the one who worked in the shadows.

The pair of them and Master Pattik and Agent Shan had been like Koth’s crew: in sync and knowing what the others would do.

A burst of shivers knocked her out of her reflecting.

Fiika doubled over, hands numb, ears ringing… the bridge tipped sideways and she toppled over.

“FIIKA!”

She drew her knees up to her chest, anything to keep warm, anything at all, everything was cold and burning painfully…

Hands lifted her up and she screamed as she was carried away.

No, no, this person wasn’t warm enough, no, no they were cold compared to whoever’d carried her before, the person who was warm…

Icy hands felt her face and brushed her hair away.

She was frozen.

* * *

 

He could feel something next to him, something soft and sweet-smelling, and too warm to be his arm.

Arcann opened his eyes and frowned at the silhouette lying beside him. There were distinct feminine curves about it. “How dare you,” he growled. No one, no servant, no droid, was allowed to be in his bedchambers while he slept. Not even Vaylin dared challenge him on that.

He summoned his mask to him before any light could be turned on by this mystery intruder.

But-

His mask was not on its stand.

He couldn’t sense the stand, nor his lightsaber.

“How dare I?” the woman asked. In the faint glow of the light in his arm, he could see her face as she leaned forward. The light grew, illuminating the room in cold light.

Fiika.

“How dare you leave me in carbonite for five years. How dare you rescue me and tempt me with freedom before sealing me back up.” She quirked her head, golden hair flowing over a shoulder and going on forever and ever and ever…

Arcann found himself reaching for it. He wanted to touch that hair.

He yanked his arm back, glaring at her. “You are not real.”

“No, this isn’t. It’s a dream. But do you know what is real?” Dream-Fiika ran icy fingers over his chest, leaving frozen trails behind.

He tried to Force-push her away, to fight her, get her away from him.

But it all failed.

Arcann’s hatred couldn’t burn through the sudden paralyzing cold she’d cast over him. He could not stop her. Dream-Fiika straddled his waist and leaned over him, a smile toying with her lips and they hovered just out of reach of his.

“What is real?” he demanded.

“I can’t stay warm. There’s poison from carbonite still in my body.” She lowered her lips to his. “I’m dying because of you.”

And Arcann awoke with a start, alone in his tangled sheets.

* * *

 

“I’m not the only one hiding things,” growled a woman’s voice. She had an accent… she was certainly not Imperial.

“We share on a need to know basis. Koth’s crew didn’t need knowing.” A familiar voice gently corrected the other woman.

Fiika blinked at the blurry figures standing on either side of her bed. Slowly Senya and Lord Beniko came into focus, as did a hospital room. Sterile blue lights hung from the ceiling, the cot was stiff, the pillow too soft.

“I…”

“Hush.” Lord Beniko glanced at her. “You’re fine.”

She didn’t feel fine. Her head was pounding. “I don’t feel so good…”

Senya raised an eyebrow. “That’s to be expected. You’re on two kolto drips.”

“Two?”

“Yes. I can count.”

Lord Beniko sighed and explained. “You collapsed on the docking bridge. Len carried you to this hospital. You’ve been submerged in bacta and other medication for about a day. You’re as recovered as you can be from carbonite poisoning. The kolto should get you back up to full health after treatment.”

Oh. “So I won’t get cold like that again?”

Senya and Lord Beniko traded looks.

“I won’t get cold like that again?” Fiika repeated anxiously.

“Something like that.” Senya spoke curtly. “You’ll always be a little cold, but your body should regulate your temperature on its own.”

“We hope,” added Lord Beniko.

Fiika sat up and smiled at her bare arms. They felt fine without being covered up with anything. No chills, goosebumps, shivers. If it wasn’t for her headache, she’d be perfect.

_Wait._

“And what of Master Pattik?” Fiika asked softly.

“He’s… He’s still in a bacta tank. With an injury like his, kolto wasn’t enough.” Lord Beniko frowned down at her feet. “He’s going to need extensive cybernetics.”

An ugly mix of emotions rolled around in Fiika’s belly. Relief that he was okay, pity that the Jedi would need cybernetics, worry that he wouldn’t fully recover. Master Pattik was their hope to push back Arcann and his empire.

Fiika sighed. “At least he’s alright. And you, my lord? Your hand?”

Lord Beniko held out her hand. Two cybernetic fingers had replaced her missing ring finger and pinkie; the mechanical extremities connected to more cybernetics. Half the Sith’s hand was now made of durasteel, and the plating continued up her arm to disappear under her sleeve. Where flesh met metal was pink and swollen. It would be until her hand was accustomed to it.

“I have my own cybernetics now. They’ll take some getting used to, but I’ll manage.” Lord Beniko stared at her hand for another moment. “You’ll be here for another day or so until you’ve recovered fully.”

“Try not to get too bored,” Senya added.

Fiika fell back against the pillows and stared at the ceiling as they left.

There wasn’t anything for her to do while she was in here on her kolto drips, but would there be anything to do if she wasn’t? Koth’s crew was probably working on the Gravestone.

She unhooked one of the kolto drips to get rid of the headache.

Wasting a day in here would drive her mad. She could do something, anything… But, as Fiika discovered as she looked around the room, she had no clothes. Her uniform was missing and all she wore was the medical gown. Even if she could get out, she’d be noticeable.

She could find the staff lockers… liberate a change of clothes… But that wouldn’t work. Someone would notice she was gone, some clothes were missing, and put two-and-two together. Lord Beniko would be questioned when she returned to see Master Pattik.

_No, that won’t work._

Fiika groaned in frustration and punched her pillow into a comfortable shape.

She wasn’t going anywhere.

* * *

 

Arcann stared out at the sky.

It was time for him to come to terms with what he’d sensed when Fiika was in the swamp. That fleeting presence that’d hung over her, it’d sent chills down his spine.

Father was alive.

Somehow.

He’d latched onto Fiika’s mind and was with her.

_Does she know?_

She had to. Right?

But perhaps this was a good thing… She made him weak, made him look like a fool, and if she was Valkorian’s vessel, then he had to remove him from her mind. Then Fiika would not taunt him to be something he wasn’t.

Yes, that had to be it.

It was Valkorian manipulating her to bring out his weaknesses.

Father never did anything else towards him.

And then he could kill his father for good without killing her.

* * *

 

“So, Captain, who was the pretty blondie?”

Koth didn’t dignify that with a response. The less his crew knew about his little… whatever-it-was on Fiika, the less they could tease him. Or worse.

“C’mon, Captain,” Len wheedled. He leaned over the fuel pipe and grinned. “She’s really pretty.”

“Is she?” Koth purposely dropped his hydrospanner to crawl under an exhaust line and hide from more questions. “Hey, tighten that valve, will you?” The hydrospanner had to be somewhere. Koth put all his mental energy into look for it, lest his mind travel to a topic he didn’t want to think about.

Like Fiika.

And if whatever their little flirtationship could grow into…. More. Not that it had to. She’d been frozen in carbonite for five years and they hardly knew each other.

But the last couple weeks of working together to fix the ship had been downright fun. There was a chemistry between them, and Koth wouldn’t object to seeing if she-

_Stop it, stop it, stop it! Find the hydrospanner!_

Koth blindly stuck his arm into a gap between pipes and felt the handle. He yanked it up, heard a snapping sound, and stared in disgust at a bone from whatever dead creature had died down there.

Len chuckled. “That’s gross.”

“Uuughhh.” Koth dropped the bone back down to remain with the rest of the skeleton. “I’m going to need a new hydrospanner. And to wash my hands.” He climbed out from behind the engine.

“So… that blondie. She seeing anyone?”

“No.”

“’Cause, I mean, I wouldn’t mind getting to know her.”

Fiika wouldn’t take him up on his offer, would she? Nah. Right?

_C’mon, Koth, you’ve got a ship to fix._

“Good luck, Len. You’ll need it.”

* * *

 

Fiika glowered at her uniform.

It was utterly atrocious after two weeks in the swamp. Not even the hospital’s laundry services could salvage it from the grease and muck stains, not to mention the various tears.

Senya remained silent.

Fiika contemplated trying to turn the medical gown into a shirt, but it wouldn’t do much for her pants. She gritted her teeth in resignation and buckled on her belt. “Don’t say anything about how foul it looks.”

“It will do. When you’re done pitying yourself, Lana wants you back at the Gravestone.” Senya flashed her a disapproving frown and marched away.

No, no, this wouldn’t do. The uniform was too filthy to be taken seriously, and after five years, it was probably dated. Besides, this wasn’t an Imperial outpost. All the clothes did was declare her an outsider.

She needed to blend it.

Hide in plain sight.

Fiika held her chin up and mustered up an air of Imperial pompousness as she stalked towards where she’d assume the markets were. People could stare at her uniform, but she would hold her head high. If most of these people were Zakuulan refugees, they wouldn’t know what rank she held.

Few people spared her glances as she entered the market.

Little stalls were made of freight shipping containers, blankets spread out with wares displayed, boxes used as tables. Stall-keepers kept one sharp eye on customers and another on their products. Credits flashed as they exchanged hands and voices bartered at full volume.

It was perfect.

Fiika shed her patronizing demeanor and slipped around a massive Bothan. She bobbed down into a quick squat and slipped her arm around his leg, snatching a pair of gloves off a table. The woman watching her stall was too busy scrutinizing the Bothan to notice a small hand at hip-height.

She threaded her way through the crowd, relieving a man of his credits and another booth of a package of undergarments. Fiika unpinned her bun and swung out her hair, catching a young man in the face. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry!”

He blinked at her, not realizing that she’d just taken a pair of pants from his stand. “Um… It’s… it’s okay, miss.”

She smiled, embarrassed. “Sorry!” Fiika whirled, knowing full well he’d be watching her hair dance around.

Good. He wouldn’t recognize her later when it would be pinned back up.

A stall owner didn’t see her sneak around his stall and slip a coat off a rack.

Fiika silently stole behind booths, poking into bins and boxes with open tops, looking for anything what would go with her stolen clothes. Like a pack. She turned and looking in another bin. A boring black shirt caught her eye and she snagged it.

Now… a place to change.

She continued to the end of the row of stalls and ducked behind a couple stacked shipping containers. Fiika tossed her merchandize up onto one and climbed up, hiding from view behind another container. She stripped and pulled on her new outfit.

The coat was a little big, the pants long, but they’d do. She dropped down and shoved her uniform and other clothes into the pack.

She stopped at a food stall on her way to the Gravestone, now dressed like she belonged on Asylum.

* * *

 

“Hey, girlie!” The big bald guy waved at her. “Feeling better?”

“Yes, Sir. I’m looking for Lord Beniko.”

“Sir? Call me Len. And she’s over there.” He pointed over to Lord Beniko and Senya. The pair of them were watching a small group of freight droids carrying boxes and neither waved back at Len.

Fiika nodded her thanks and strode over. “Lord Beniko, I heard you were looking for me.”

Senya slowly turned to stare at her.

Lord Beniko sighed and shook her head, torn between amusement and getting frustrated. “You’ve… obviously gone shopping. I don’t want to know how you got those clothes.” She glanced past Fiika at Len. “I see you’ve met some of Koth’s crew.”

“They seem… nice.”

Senya scoffed and turned away, eyes suspicious as she watched Len. “They work for that traitor. They’re traitors too.”

“Nice is not how I’d describe them, but the get the job done.” Lord Beniko checked her chrono. “I need to make contact with my network- alone,” she added as Fiika straightened. She glanced at Senya. “Try to stay out of trouble.”

Lord Beniko stepped down to the docking bridge and headed towards the doors.

Fiika watched her go.

Had this been before she’d been frozen, she’d be with her. She was Lord Beniko’s back up, she was to accompany her, and she had sworn her silence to whatever the Sith did.

And to be left alone here… Fiika shook her head. Lord Beniko had gone five years without her. She was probably used to being alone.

That didn’t mean that it still hurt to be left behind.

“Where’s Lana?”

Fiika looked over at Koth. He appeared particularly peeved about something.

“Excellent question,” Senya stated. She crossed her arms, glaring at him with extreme hostility.

“My best engineer hasn’t come back from a supply run to the Free Zone.” He glanced at Fiika. “It’s a dodgy neighborhood, if you catch my drift.”

Not to be outdone, Senya had to add to that. “A black market. Rival syndicates disagree over who controls it.”

“They argue with blasters,” Koth continued. He smiled at Fiika. “I think my engineer’s in trouble, but we’ve got our hands full keeping the Gravestone’s reactor stable.”

Fiika playfully stuck her hands on her hips. “And you’d like me to go look for her?”

“I would, and I’ll even say please.”

Fiika caught sight of Senya rolling her eyes. “Give me a holo of your crewmate and point me to this Free Zone. I’ll handle the rest.”

Koth waved over HK-55. “I can do you one better. My engineer’s name is Tora. HK has her image in his databanks.”

“Addendum: I will join you, Master Allos.”

Len appeared with the droid. “She won’t be hard to find. Tora has a…” He trailed off. “Big personality,” he finally finished.

Koth stood up straighter and tilted his head commandingly. “She’s surlier than a hungry rancor, but she’s the best engineer you’ll ever meet. Thanks for the help.” A flicker of a smile crossed his face.

Fiika watched him and Len head towards the freight droids. What had made him all formal at the end?

“And when you’re done, find me at these coordinates.” Senya pushed a datachip into her hand. “I’ll introduce you to my people.”

“I… How about you help me find Koth’s engineer and we can go together?”

“And help the traitor? I’ll join you… but not now.”

“Alright, see you later.” Fiika checked her holster for her blaster and knives. “Come along, HK. We’ve got an engineer to find.”

* * *

 

“Look at the size of that thing!”

Fiika weaved through a small gathering of dockworkers clustered together as they gazed at the Gravestone.

“I can’t tell if it’s impressive… or a giant heap of junk.”

“Could be both,” another worker added. “Think they’ll let us work on it?”

“Do you really want to?”

“Good point.”

She finally got through them with a quick elbow jab. Fiika took the nearest door into Asylum and wretched at the stench.

“FRESH- er… HOT GORAK! SKEWERED, FRIED, THEN ROASTED TO PERFECTION! FOOD THAT’LL LEAVE YOU THINKING ABOUT IT FOR HOURS! HOT GORAK!’

HK-55 peered down at her. “Query: Are you well?”

“I’m quite well, but that meat has gone rancid.” Fiika covered her nose and moved deeper into Asylum.

Storage crates and fuel cells lined the corridors, always a watchful owner nearby. Benches were strewn about randomly, places for Zakuul refugees and exiles to rest and for others to, as one man was doing, sleep. Banners from the ceiling bore a thick synthhammer in yellow.

It was surprisingly clean compared to the market.

Fiika passed a couple sitting on a bench. She paused and turned around for a double-take. No, it wasn’t Mum and Luuko. They were dead, she knew they were…

She turned back around and paused at a lift.

The Free Zone is a dangerous place… and filth always gets pushed through the cracks to below. Down we go.

Fiika considered the buttons on the lift and pressed one that was still mostly intact; no endless stream of fingers had ruined the paint on it. So no one went to that level, in theory.

They few down in the lift and stepped out into a warzone. Freight crates, up-ended bins, overturned tables… and of course, blasterfire between enemies.

“Welcome to the Free Zone,” Fiika muttered. She drew her blaster and motioned for HK-55 to follow her around one of the gangs.

“HEY THERE’S ONE!”

A group of the gang members turned on her.

Fiika dove behind a bin. “BLOODY HELL, I’M NOT HERE FOR YOU!”

“SAYS THE BITCH WEARIN’ A BLADE’S JACKET!”

“Damn.” She looked over at HK. “Stay down for a moment then get ready.” Fiika slowly raised her hands above the bin. When they weren’t blown off with blasterfire, she stood.

A Twi’Lek and Cathar had their weapons aimed at her.

“I stole this coat from someone in the market,” she slowly explained. “I needed some clothes and it was left lying around.”

“Yeah right.”

HK-55 fired at the two aliens. Both dropped before they could shoot.

“Nice shots, HK.”

“Humility: It was nothing, Master Allos.”

Fiika crept back into the shadows where the rest of this gang couldn’t see her. She snuck around more bins, HK-55 keeping out of sight as well, and they snuck through corridors.

They made it through a diner-turned-shooting gallery with minimal resistance.

It was when they were leaving that they were cornered by a lean Zabrak with a wild light in his eyes. “Ooooh, so you’re against Oggo, are you? Oggo doesn’t like that,” the Zabrak purred. “Oggo will kill you for being in Oggo’s way.”

“Oggo’s a bit full of himself.” Fiika blocked his fist and stabbed him in the gut. “And I don’t take kindly to death threats.”

“Praise: God job, Master!”

“Thank you, HK.” She wiped the dagger off on Oggo’s jacket and sheathed it. “Come on, let’s find Tora.”

After an hour, she turned to the droid, at a loss as to where to look for this Tora. “Do you sense any headquarters for these gangs? Or do you have a suggestion where she is?”

HK-55 clicked as he scanned the surroundings.

Please pick up something. I don’t want to start asking people.

“Suggestion: We go through this re-enforced door. I sense multiple meatbags on the other side of it.” HK-55 raised his rifle and put a bright orange cartridge into it.

“HK-“

The droid fired and the explosion shook the floor. Smoke filled the corridor, metal twisted inward, and HK-55 danced gleefully in the wreckage.

Fiika gaped at him, thought better of it, and entered the door HK-55 had turned into scrap.

She supposed there couldn’t have been a more impressive entry to make.

Everyone was staring at her.

Very well, she’d put on a performance.

Fiika called up her mask from earlier, the Imperial mask of patronizing condescendence lazily looked down her nose.

A small group of aliens clustered around a towering Weequay in heavy Republic armor.

_Ah, so you’re in charge._

Fiika studied him.

He caught her doing so. “You could’ve just knocked. My men spent hours on that barricade.”

“I’ll remember that on my next visit,” she snapped.

A petite woman with electric blue hair was mostly hidden behind the Weequay. She let out a snort of laughter.

“Identification.” HK-55 pointed to the woman. “That snort issued from the brilliant engineer we were sent to rescue.”

The Weequay, unfortunately, heard that. A greedy glint appeared in his eye as he crossed his arms and grinned. “What is she to you?”

Fiika raised an eyebrow in disinterest. “She’s the reason I’m here, scum. Let her go and I’ll be on my way.”

“Hm… You eliminated my old rival Oggo. That inclines me towards gratitude, but the girl tried to rob me. That’s bad for business.” He shrugged.

Tora looked indignant. “Chargin’ fifty thousand credits for a hundred thermal detonators? That’s robbery.”

_Five hundred credits each? That’s a con._

The Weequay turned around to glare down at her. “You also insulted my mother!”

“I said she’s uglier than a Bantha wearing lipstick!” Tora smirked. “It’s not an insult if it’s true.”

“My mother died putting me on a refugee ship to Nar Shadda. I grew up an orphan!”

“Oh, boo. Who didn’t? Join the club.” Tora crossed her arms and wouldn’t look the Weequay in the eye.

He turned to Fiika. “You see why I have to kill her.”

“You see that if you do that, I will personally kill your entire crew present and then you.” Fiika allowed a tiny, polite smile to surface. “Or I’m sure we can settle this peacefully.”

_If Tora can keep her mouth shut._

“Look.” The Weequay frowned at Fiika. “I know who you are-”

“Do you?”

“You’re some snobby Imperial officer sent to collect her. I know you’re used to getting your own way. What do you say we show each other some professional courtesy? I can get you all kinds of things. But first I need to throw this thieving scum out the airlock first.”

“Theory: It will be a challenge to throw anything without your arms.”

“HK, stand down.” Fiika pulled herself up to her unimpressive height and fixed the Weequay with a chilling glare. “What I need is Tora alive. And you’re being quite rude. Let Tora go and apologize for threatening her. Tora, you apologize for trying to steal his overpriced merchandise. Pay him what he wants.”

The Weequay was stunned into silence by her suggestion, is if he wasn’t certain if it was serious or not.

Tora did not have that problem. “I ain’t sorry for nothin’!” She balked at Fiika’s dangerous look. “Fine,” she growled. “I’m sorry I insulted your mother…”

“What? I didn’t catch that.” The Weequay cocked his hand behind his ear and leaned down.

“I’m sorry! Your mother was a nice lady, ‘kay?”

“Wrong. She was the best. Now give me my credits.”

If looks could kill, Fiika would have been murdered viciously multiple times by the glower Tora aimed at her. Slowly the blue-haired woman handed over a credit chip to the Weequay. “Done. Now where’s my apology?”

The Weequay chuckled and motioned to one of his crew members. “Shipment’s on its way. Sorry we almost stopped doing business.” He bowed sarcastically to Fiika. “See you around, Impy.” The Weequay shooed them out of his headquarters.

Tora turned on her, pissed as all hell. “I’ve ever apologized to anyone in my life!”

“Did they hurt you?”

“My pride got busted, but that’s your fault.” Tora’s eyes flashed angrily.

Fiika sneered. “Well, if you’re feeling up to it after such a grievous wound, Koth needs you down at the docks.”

“He ain’t gonna be happy you spent all our credits.”

“I can get more. Now go help him.”

“You ain’t my captain.” Tora flipped her the bird as she turned and jogged away.

_She’s a pleasant one, isn’t she._

Fiika sighed and stared up at the ceiling of the corridor.

“Redirection: We should proceed to the rendezvous with Senya, Master Allos.”

“Quite right. You’ve got the coordinates, so after you.”

* * *

 

It was a very seedy, badly-lit, and grimy alley, all together giving it the appearance that it was the sort of place someone would be murdered in a dramatic holo-film. Garbage containers jutted out awkwardly, blocking light from revealing what other nasty surprises lurked in the darkness. Not that the light would want to revel whatever was making Fiika’s boots stick to the floor. Some things were best left unknown.

“Observation: this dark and foreboding alley is where we are supposed to meet Senya, Master Allos.” HK-55 sounded almost cheerful as he held his rifle close.

She was decidedly less optimistic. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

The alley obliged.

Things rustled ominously out of sight.

Something creaked.

Fiika kept one hand on her blaster and rounded a garbage bin.

Senya stared back unblinkingly. “Right on time. My friends have been looking forward to this.”

_Be polite. Even if you don’t worship Valkorian, we can use Senya’s friends as allies to de-throne Arcann._

“I hope it goes well.” Fiika discreetly looked around for anyone lurking near them. “Where are your friends?”

“They’re inside.”

_The garbage bin?_

The Knight turned and shifted over scrap metal covered in a substance best left a mystery. Behind the scrap was a tiny keypad Senya typed a code into.

The floor rumbled, and an entire section of wall smoothly pulled away from the alley and rose, revealing a well-lit and welcomingly clean alcove. In the center of the alcove was a hallway cast in shadow.

All in all, it was a blasted good hideout. No one would want to go down the dangerous-looking alley, and even if they did, it was so dark that this false wall couldn’t be picked out from the rest.

“I’m impressed.”

Senya raised an eyebrow and gestured for them to go inside.

Fiika crossed over the threshold easily.

HK-55 sputtered to a stop and shook as his circuits cut out. The droid dropped to the floor and rolled out into the alley. Before Fiika could grab him, the door slid back into place, effectively locking her into the strange hideout with a woman she uneasily trusted.

Senya’s lips were pursed sternly as Fiika coolly frowned at her.

“You better have a good explanation.”

Senya turned and strolled swiftly down the hallway, leaving Fiika to jog to catch up. “The droid is not part of what must happen here.”

“I spent five years stuck in one trap.” Fiika bit her words off sharply. “I will not fall into another so easily, not without a fight.” She paused in her threats, distracted with the room.

Deep blue crystals hung from the ceiling on beaded chains, filling the room with subtle light. A plush rug took up the center of the space, gold threaded along it’s edges spelling out things in symbols she recognized from Arcann’s armor. The Zakuulan alphabet?

Taking up the entire far wall was a ridiculously enormous display backlight in purple, the cases full of various swords, electro-staffs, and a couple pikes. They appeared ceremonial based on the gold filigree and ivory inlays, but the worn durasteel and leather handles said differently.

Those weapons were dangerous.

Fiika watched the shadows pooling outside the dull light for any movement.

The uncomfortable sensation she was being watched was creeping up her back.

“You are free to leave whenever you like.” Senya broke the silence. “But if you want the help of my allies, you’ll stay.”

_We could use all the help we can get._

_‘Perhaps. We have come this far. Let us see where it leads.’ Valkorian sounded disinterested._

_I do not need you distracting, Valkorian._

Fiika got the sense he was amused as he stayed silent.

“No more games,” she hissed. “Truth. Now.”

Senya glanced at her before looked back at the weapons on display. “Before Arcann’s betrayal, Zakuul was protected by two orders: the Knights and Scions who see visions of the past and future. Scions no longer serve Arcann. Whether they will serve us will be determined now.”

“Fate is a tale whispered to us,” crooned a voice without a visible source. “But the voices are silent about you, Fiika Allos. We must know why.” The word echoed around the chamber.

Why?

Why?

Why?

_Alright, they’re a creepy bunch so far, but no worse than the crazy Sith. We need them, be diplomatic._

Fiika clasped her hands behind her back and smiled up at the ceiling. “I’ve always wanted to know my future,” she said easily. “How do we get these voices talking?”

The voice spoke after a moment. Fiika was half-expecting a Force-ghost to come floating through a wall like a child’s campfire story, but no, the voice still reverberated through the room without the speaker seen. “If we are to aid in your rebellion, we must understand what roll you play in Arcann’s defeat. We will test you physically and spiritually to pierce the veil and see the truth.”

“You aren’t the first person who’s wanted to test me.”

Memories of Agent training surfaced in her mind, and Fiika pushed them back down. Few things could challenge that. She wouldn’t discount this test, for all she knew it would be like Agent training. But she sincerely doubted that.

As if it could read her mind, the voice slithered around the room, whispering. “This will be different.”

Senya turned to face Fiika. “I tie my fate to yours. I join you in these trials, come what may.” She stiffly bowed her head.

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Fiika rested her hand on her blaster and slowly stepped to face an intimidating man dressed in heavy black robes.

He nodded at them and flicked on a pink lightsaber. “The heart of Scyva is heavy with loss,” he intoned. A woman joined him. “In her pain, we lash out.”

_‘I do miss the old ways of Zakuul. Such mythology and pageantry.’_

_Valkorian, do shut up._

The woman illuminated her own pink lightsaber, face jaunt in the light. “Please, defend yourselves.”

The pair of Scions charged Fiika and Senya.

The man came for Fiika and threw out a Force-wave, knocking her back. There was a flash of white-

_“Fiika, be careful!” Her mother’s voice floated from her music room._

_“I got it, Mum!” She ran off giggling, plate of cookies in one hand and a glass of bantha-milk in the other. The hallway stretched on forever._

Fiika pulled herself out of the memory and barely managed to duck under the pink lightsaber as it came screaming towards her neck.

The Scion’s eyes flashed white again.

_“Luuko, I got you this! Well, Mummy did but it’s from both of us!” She held up a childishly wrapped box, noticing the sensation of some of her teeth missing._

_He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Thanks, Fiik.” Slowly he unwrapped it and sat in stunned silence, staring at the adoption forms before he pulled her onto his lap and kissed her forehead._

_“Now you can really call me kiddo ‘cause I’ll be your kiddo!”_

_No._

Fiika leapt forward and fired her blaster at point-blank into the Scion’s belly. Those were memories of what she’d never have again thanks to Valkorian. Mum and Luuko, dead on Ziost.

He disappeared into faint pink smoke that faded away almost instantly.

There was a flash of light as Senya’s blue lightsaber clashed against the other Scion’s. The Knight easily pushed the woman back.

“You fight well,” the Scion chuckled.

Senya buried her lightsaber into the woman’s chest.

She too vanished into think smoke.

“We have passed the first trial. There will be more.”

Fiika followed Senya’s gaze to another hallway. “I’m counting on it.”

‘Scions believe there is no greater power than destiny. They cannot believe that you exist outside its influence. But we know better…”

She toned out the voice in her head as she followed Senya up a ramp to the second floor.

A room, nearly identical to the one below, save for a less-impressive weapon display and more blue lights, awaited them.

Fiika strode into the center of the rug, blaster ready to keep Scions from dredging up more unpleasantness. “If there is another trial, let’s continue.”

The voice did not indulge her. “Hunger. Overconfidence,” it sang. “You were more tolerant in the Free Zone, despite the fools you suffered.”

“You were watching me.”

“We’re always watching. Arcann took away years of your time, but he stole something far more from the rest of us.” The voice paused, and the sensation of having eyes watching her returned. “Do you feel anything for those who suffered while you slept?” The ton was light, at odds with the weight of the question.

Fiika considered her words. “Why else would I be here? There’s been enough pain. I want to end the suffering.”

The voice was silent.

Uneasiness filled her belly. Had she said the right thing?

“And of you, Senya? What…” paused the voice, relishing in the flash of pain on the Knight’s face. “Do you feel?”

“Shame,” Senya whispered.

“Because you failed to protect our Immortal Emperor?”

Senya’s nostrils flared. “I was in no position to do that!”

The voice turned dark. “What of the Scions who were slaughtered by your fellow Knights because Arcann demanded it? Do you feel responsible for them?”

Pain flashed across the woman’s face, etching lines and making her look far older than she way. “When I joined the Knights, they were shields protecting our home world.” Something shifted and Senya looked livid. “Now they are weapons wielded by an insane child who does not deserve her rank of High Justice.”

Fiika leaned over to speak quietly. “The Knights killed the Scions on Arcann’s orders? Why?”

The voice answered. “Because he thinks himself beyond the reach of destiny.”

_So do I, for that matter._

Senya raised her lightsaber at the appearance of another pair of Scions. “The Knights should have rebelled against Arcann. Instead we have lost our honor.”

The taller of the two Scions; a woman with heavy muscles and ebony skin, held her own lightsaber aloft in challenge to Senya. Her eyes were on Fiika, staring through her and empty. “The Eyes of Esne claim what can never belong to her!”

_‘Envy,’ Valkorian explained. ‘One of my son’s weaknesses. Do not let it be yours.’_

_I envy the silence I had before you took up residence in my thoughts._

The short and stocky Scion’s voice wavered. “We receive no pleasure from this trial, but we act as fate demands. Be strong, outlander.”

The woman leapt and Fiika and grabbed her by the hair.

_Taai stood on the viewport over the cockpit of their fighter. “You don’t understand.”_

_Heartbreak and raging fury fueled the pounding of her blood. “TRAITOR!” Fiika bellowed._

_It didn’t matter what she yelled. It was all a lie, everything had been. Taai had known it wouldn’t last between them, and yet-_

_“You were a fun one, Allos.” The Chiss hopped into the pilot’s seat. Fiika’s seat. She fired up the engine and left._

_A traitor to the Empire._

Fiika’s hand closed around a delicate wrist. “How dare you pry into my mind!” She whirled and slammed her elbow into the Scion’s gut.

The scion’s hand force-drew her blaster.

She smacked it away from her, the shot going wild and breaking the glass of the weapon display.

“I’ll take everything from you,” the Scion whispered. Hey empty eyes leered at Fiika.

“I’d like to see you try.” Fiika pushed the Scion away and whirled, boot cracking against her jaw. She followed it up by dodging the blind punch and slamming the flat of her palm against the Scion’s ear. “You can’t have my memories.”

And the Scion turned into Taai.

“Ooohhh, Lovey, don’t you want me again?” Taai’s jacket disappeared.

_Yes._

_No. I can’t have you. Not the real you, and I don’t want that._

Fiika buried her daggers into Taai’s perfect face. “No.”

The figure turned into a mauve haze.

“FIIKA!”

The other Scion knocked into her and the pair of them went flying into broken glass.

_The mirror sparkled in the golden light. Mum smiled and kissed her hair, tears unshed in her eyes and smile stretching her face. New lines that were a stranger to Fiika were on her face. “Oh, my darling, you’re a beautiful bride.”_

_Fiika turned her gaze onto herself._

_Her scars were gone around her mouth. No puckered skin, lips flawless._

_“Come on, down the aisle.”_

_Fiika found herself with Mum on arm, Luuko on the other. Waiting at the end of the aisle was a tall figure cast in shadow, the promise of devotion and tender love._

She blindly reached for the flash of durasteel, screaming as the glass cut into her arm she was sprawled on top of.

The Scion’s hand fought hers.

The vision shifted.

_Fiika stood alone in the shadows of a cliff. The moon glowed overhead, illuminated countless trees._

_“I see you,” the voice rumbled. “Even in the shadows where you hide. I notice you. Everything you do. The research, the planning, the coordinating. Forming schedules.”_

_She looked up into a pair of blue eyes._

_“You do not have to hide from everyone.”_

The Scion’s hand grabbed the weapon. Fiika lurched forward and yanked one of his fingers back.

There was a painful popping sound.

The Scion screamed.

She stumbled to her feet, lightsaber pike glowing blue as she clumsily whipped it around and severed the Scion into two puffs of smoke.

Senya stared at her, a faint smile appearing. “You need training with that.”

“You offering?”

“Perhaps.” Senya waved her hand and shut off the pike. “To the next trial?”

Fiika wiped at the blood on her arm. “After you.” She kept the pike her hands, following the Knight.

Senya stormed through the hallway, flicking her hands out once and two Scions smashed against the walls to evaporate.

_‘The Scions are driven by revenge, but they require fate’s compliance. We are above such negotiations. Destiny’s merely a conduit of our will.’_

_You must enjoy hearing yourself think._

Senya paused at a towering door.

Gradually it rose.

* * *

 

Koth watched Tora climb around the engine like a monkey-lizard, on the verge of falling asleep as she repeated her tirade again.

“It’s a miracle this thing hasn’t exploded a thousand times over after what you put it through.”

_It’s a miracle I’m still listening._

He leaned over the edge of the access hatch and repeated his same answer. “It’s not a miracle if it’s meant to be. I’m living proof all you need is faith.”

She snorted. “Uh-huh” Tora wiped her hands off and passed up her servodrivers, then climbed out of the engine. “I’d say you’re living proof Miss Spooky Eyes is a lot more patient than she looks.”

“Isn’t there anything you still need to fix around here?”

“Yeah, but messing with you’s more fun.”

Koth turned towards the door, decided that dealing with Miss Spooky Eyes herself was better than Tora.

Lana was followed by a sparking HK-55. She crossed her arms, stress lines apparent around her mouth. “I found HK wandering Asylum with no memory of anything since he’d left.”

“Whew. Good thing he’s okay.” As much as Koth disliked the droid on occasion, he was definitely useful. But if he had his memory wiped… “I mean, that’s probably bad. Where’s Fiika?”

“Exactly.”

Izak take them all.

“Senya wanted her and HK to meet her contacts.” Koth turned to HK-55. “She gave you coordinates to the location.”

“Apology: I have no such data stored in memory.”

Izak damn them all.

Koth curled his fingers into fists, anger rising. How could Fiika have just been taken like that? HK-55 was a damned bodyguard droid, this wasn’t supposed to happen. But if the other person with them had bad intentions…

“Senya,” he spat. “I knew it.”

Lana raised a hand to stop him there. “I believe her contacts are the real danger. HK, what’s the first thing you remember after you woke up?”

“No need,” came a voice.

Koth’s head snapped around and there was Pattik, wrapped in bandaged and torn robes. He stood stiffly.

“I sense her,” the Jedi said. “And I can take you there.”

* * *

 

Senya’s arm shot out and kept Fiika from walking forward.

A vision of Arcann stood in the center of the chamber. He slowly shifted to face them, lightsaber held with disinterest as he dismissed Senya with contempt. His gaze was focused on Fiika.

“You seek to remove Arcann from the Eternal Throne.” The voice sounded closer, the source above. Fiika craned her head back to see darkness in place of the ceiling. “His destiny is to fall.”

The vision of Arcann dropped his lightsaber and crumpled to his knees. Murderous rage burned in his eye as his clothes became battle-stained and his cybernetic arm replaced with frayed wires. His mask cracked.

“We have foreseen that much.”

Fiika stepped past Senya and stared down at the vision.

“But his final fate remains unclear,” the voice hissed. “When he is at your mercy, what will you do?”

Vision-Arcann was twisted with loathing, his hand in a fist. He looked absolutely mad.

_What will you do?_

The voice’s words echoed around in her mind. He’d offered her safety and instead stole away five years. He’d saved her on Darth Marr’s ship, only to use her for his own gain. And what had happened to the galaxy… he’d bested both the Empire and Republic and was slowly strangling them.

So many people had died.

He’s killed Master Pattik’s apprentice, hundreds of Jedi, Sith, men, women, soldiers. Civilians.

There were rumors he killed his own brother.

Arcann was a vile man with power he hadn’t earned.

But for all he’d done, he was not Valkorian.

Fiika turned her back to the vision, knowing the voice would not be satisfied with her answer. “Death is not always the answer. I don’t want to save him, but there’s been enough death. Even for a man like Arcann, there are other ways to atone. And I will not stoop to his level.”

The voice whipped around the room in fury.

“Arcann will not escape justice for the lives he’s taken.” Senya spoke softly, staring past Fiika at the vision.

A figure dropped down between them. He looked vaguely familiar… With a jolt, Fiika realized he was the Scion she’d met on Arcann’s flagship. He had a name… Heskal? Yes, that was it.

He threw out an arm and knocked Senya back into a pillar. Her head hit the durasteel with a painful crack, and she slumped to the ground, chin on her chest and completely unconscious.

Heskal stared flatly at Fiika, pupils huge in the dim light. “If you are not with us,” he snarled. “You stand against the tides of destiny.” He was the speaker of the voice.

Something cold seared through her belly.

Fiika blinked at the lightsaber protruding from her belly-button. It wasn’t real. Vision-Arcann walked around and stared down at her in fury.

She’d turned her back to him and been stabbed.

Cold spread out from the fake wound.

“Arcann and Vaylin must die,” Heskal warned. His pink lightsaber sliced through the vision, ending it.

No. This was revenge he wanted. Master Pattik had said that the future was never set in stone.

Heskal spoke of the past and his revenge in the future.

“I’m starting to second-guess whether or not we need you.”

The Scion’s eyes turned white, glowing faintly in the darkness. “You act as if you have a choice!” He grabbed her by the hair and held her close enough that he could roar into her face. And Heskal needed a couple packs of breath mints. “We know our part, it is yours that must be reveal. His eyes flared. “I will know your fate even if I must tear you open to see it.”

His other hand clamped down on her throat and Fiika screamed.

_The Knights circled them, memories of ice racing through her veins. Master Pattik and Lord Beniko fought them off, protecting her._

_“STAND DOWN AND FACE JUSTICE!”_

_“PATHETIC ASSASSIN!”_

_One Knight leapt away, the other’s windpipe crushed by Lord Beniko._

The vision wavered.

_Soft robes covered her, heavy gold stitching glittering in the light. Hundreds of Knights bowed before her._

_Past them were soldiers and-_

_A warm hand took hers._

Fiika bit Heskal’s fingers.

He roared in pain and released her.

She stumbled back, wheezing and watching the Scion.

Heskal shook his hand, eyes back to their usual creepiness. “I need to know who that was!” he yanked to towards him with the Force.

Her daggers flashed as his lightsaber lit up the room. She ducked under a wild swing and slashed at his arm, catching his flowing sleeve but missing flesh. Her dagger was torn from her grip.

“Bloody hell.”

The Scion’s hand lashed out and-

_‘I WANT TO LIVE! PLEASE, ARCANN, I WANT TO LIVE!”_

_Her screams echoed around the Spire as he looked on impassively._

_And then Fiika was staring up at herself in carbonite, seeing the terror and resignation on her face. Slowly she looked over and found Arcann staring up at the carbonite as well._

_He looked remorseful._

“NO,” Heskal bellowed. “THE FUTURE!”

_Arcann turned into Vaylin. She cackled and screamed into Fiika’s face. “YOU CAN’T STEAL MY BROTHER AWAY. I WILL KILL YOU!”_

_Pain blossomed in Fiika’s chest, and she fell over, staring at the stars. Her heart stopped beating, lungs stopped breathing._

_Around her raged a battle._

_Vaylin kicked her corpse._

“Pathetic.” Fiika dropped to the floor. Heskal loomed over her, livid. “You are not the savior this galaxy needs. You… encourage his darkness. Her madness. And Arcann can’t rule this galaxy because of you.” The pink lightsaber appeared over her. “You must die.”

Time slowed.

_‘Enough. His argument with you is pointless.’_

Valkorian regarded Heskal one would a pesky gnat.

_‘I can end this without any more bloodshed if you accept the gift of my power.’_

Fiika crawled away from him, throat burning and arms shaking. “I will handle him myself.” Her fingers closed around the pike.

He snorted.

_‘Then stop wasting time. Reveal his fate.’_

He disappeared.

Heskal’s lightsaber crashed down onto empty space. He looked up at Fiika in suspicion.

She spun the pike in her arms and took up a defensive pose used for vibroswords. Pikes were like swords with a long handle, right?

Somewhere an old training officer was probably laughing.

Heskal charged.

Fiika deactivated the pike and threw it at him. He stuttered at the move and knocked the weapon away.

He’d taken his eyes off Fiika.

Her boot connected with his jaw and Heskal swayed with the force of the kick. She took advantage of her momentum and landed in a crouch, pushing up with her leg to give her fist extra power as she aimed for the Scion’s liver.

Heskal doubled over.

She knocked him down and relieved him of his fallen lightsaber.

A groan echoed around the chamber. A moment later, and Senya stood alongside Fiika, gaze level as she studied Heskal. “Do not judge him too harshly. This trial was necessary for all of us.” She rubbed the back of her head. “We need the Scions.”

“My throat begs to differ.” Fiika paused as other Scions dropped down from the hidden ceiling. “We need friends, and they don’t have to see into the future.”

One of the Scions from earlier stepped up, looking pointedly at Heskal. “The blood of Tyth flows through you, outlander. Please do not force us to spill it.”

She stepped back and let Heskal rise.

The Scions relaxed.

An explosion sent the nearest door flying across the chamber and smacking loudly into a golden statue.

“Stand. Down. Now.” Lord Beniko barked, brandishing her lightsaber and pale with anger.

Behind her stood Master Pattik, quietly studying the Scions.

Heskal stared at him intensely. There was a flicker of light in his eyes. “I see,” he whispered.

“You heard the Sith.” Fiika shoved him towards his fellow Scions. “Stand. Down.”

He turned an eerily calm look upon her. “Every moment since you entered, even this one, was predicted. Everyone here played the role fate assigned them. I have one final question for you.” Heskal squinted, watching Fiika closely. “What future do you see for this galaxy when Arcann and his Eternal Fleet are gone?”

She met his gaze, refusing to blink. “One person shouldn’t decide the fate of the galaxy. When the time comes, we can work together.”

It wasn’t likely, but it was what she hoped would happen. Too unrealistic with the Empire against the Republic.

_‘He will not live to do that.’_

Heskal’s eyes flickered white again and he smiled, satisfied. “You have nothing more to reveal.”

A sinking feeling in her stomach told Fiika he probably knew who was in her mind.

The Scion stepped back and raised his volume. “I now know what blinded us the future. Our Immortal Emperor lives…” He paused dramatically.

_Just say the blasted thing._

She put every ounce of energy into working on a good reaction.

“Inside your mind.”

Fiika waited a heartbeat before snorting. “That’s rubbish.” She turned to give Lord Beniko and the others a droll look, as if to say ‘yeah, right.’

Koth’s eyebrows were up near his goggles, Master Pattik silently stared at her, and Lord Beniko…

_No, no no no no-_

The Sith looked sadden as she stuck her hands on her hips in resignation. “It couldn’t stay a secret forever.”

_I can salvage this._

“You don’t honestly believe Valkorian’s in-”

“He is.” Master Pattik tilted his head in understanding. “Hiding this will only hurt you.”

“No, he’s... no, no no…” Fiika held up her hands to ward off their looks. “No! Valkorian… he… he- he…” Her stammering trailed off. “My lord, how long have you know?” she asked softly.

Lord Beniko matched her tone. “I’ve had my suspicions since you first collapsed from carbonite poisoning. You should have died, and I sensed… something keeping you alive. It wasn’t until we fought the Knights in the swamp that I knew for certain. His presence shrouded yours.”

“Whoa whoa, you knew about this?” Koth turned to Fiika, hurt. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t want anyone to know that a monster’s freeloading in my skull.”

HK-55 whirled and clicked as a laser roved over her. “Analysis: Scan reveals no evidence you possess a secondary personality matrix.” He paused. “It is possible your brain is simply malfunctioning.”

Heskal waved his hand to silence them all. “Our duel gave me a glimpse of what’s to come. You will end the tyranny of the Eternal Throne… but many will suffer before that victory.”

Fiika had reached the end of her patience with his vague words. “Let me guess. Your vision didn’t specify who suffers… or how long defeating Arcann will take,” she spat scathingly. “And-”

“Doesn’t matter,” Koth interrupted. He grinned. “We win. If Emperor Valkorian lives because of you, there’s hope for Zakuul.”

Heskal stared at Fiika. “Zakuul will have an Emperor again.”

“See?” Koth gestured to the Scion. “He said so!”

Lord Beniko pinched the bridge of her nose. “Your beloved Immortal Emperor is a threat to all life, everywhere.” She sent a sideways glance to Fiika. “We must find a way to separate you from him.”

_He’ll love that idea._

Fiika crossed her arms, suddenly wanting to go back to being a nobody hidden in the shadows. All this attention was making her squirm on the inside. “No one wants Valkorian out of my head more than I do. But removing him won’t be easy.”

_It’ll be blasted difficult._

Lord Beniko sighed and looked around the Scion chamber. Almost everyone was listening to the conversation. “We have a lot to discuss.”

Master Pattik chuckled, and then winced. He gently massaged his belly, pain apparent on his face. “Not here. Somewhere… more private.”

Fiika met Heskal’s eyes, ready to be done with Scions. “I’ll assume I passed your test. Join us, or don’t. Either way, I’m done.” She pulled her stolen jacket around her like a shield from everyone’s eyes. The pike caught her eye.

No, she wasn’t going to steal it from the Scions. Could give them as excuse to see her again and make ambiguous claims about her future.

“There is one truth left to reveal.” Senya’s voice rang out.

Fiika spun on her heel to look at the Knight standing in the shadows.

The woman looked small for a moment, pain and tears in her eyes. A muscle twitched in her jaw. “I withheld the true reason I followed Fiika through the trials. I needed to understand this outlander who will destroy Arcann and Vaylin…”

_‘Haha… she’s going to tell you. How delightful,’ Valkorian laughed mirthlessly._

Senya’s voice echoed around the chamber. “They’re my son and daughter.”

* * *

 

He didn’t want to believe it.

Since she’d escaped… no, since Father had escaped in her mind, Arcann’s reign had been thrown into chaos. The embarrassment of the Jedi and her escaping the Spire, the defeat at the hands of the Gravestone, and now…

Not even his own mother was on his side.

Maybe it wasn’t Father, and Fiika simply had a knack for dismantling Emperors. First Father, now him-

No. It had to be Father taking revenge on Arcann for killing him.

Fiika had been kind towards him. She wouldn’t do this… But then he’d kept her prisoner for five years. Perhaps this was her getting back for that, but then why would Mother help her? Father had to be behind it.

“You’re certain she helped them?” he repeated.

Vaylin simmered as she stalked back and forth. “I killed three Knights to make sure they weren’t lying!” She whirled and her cheeks grew pink. “And then another three because I hate odd numbers. That bitch you fancy left in the Gravestone with our mother’s help! She’s against us, Mother is.” Her temper boiled over. “She hates us! Look at her, she and Father obviously favor that girl you care for over their own flesh and blood.” She pitched forward, arms braced on the Throne’s armrests and eyes boring into Arcann’s. “If Mother likes her, then I hate her.”

He dampened down his own fury at Vaylin’s crude comment about Fiika. It was just a jab to get him upset. And he was too strong to let that get a rise out of him. Arcann forced a calm tone. “Mother was always strong-willed. That’s why Father loved her.”

“Your pathetic little crush is strong-willed,” Vaylin hissed. She pushed off the Throne and resumed her pacing. “Are you going to leave me for her?”

“You are my sister. Family. She is nothing.”

She fell silent, still pacing.

He pondered her words. If he had let Fiika live, not as a carbonite trophy but as a person… No. It was the past. He couldn’t have what wasn’t there anymore.

“Do you think Mother knows Father’s alive?” Vaylin stopped and stared out at the stars, frowning. “Did she betray us for him, or her?”

He wanted to end the circular argument. “It doesn’t matter.” Mother had loved him, unlike Father. She’d been proud of what he could do, even if it wasn’t as good as The- his brother. Arcann shut his eyes, leaning back.

The lullabies she’d sing to them at night no matter how old they were. She’d sing while polishing her armor, and he’d chime in. Mother’s smile, always bright and loving and proud- and then it’d disappear when Father praised his brother, but not Arcann.

And then she disappeared.

He’d heard she’d shown up to rescue Vaylin from Nathema.

She never showed up to rescue Arcann from his brother’s shadow.

But then he could have saved himself from that. He was supposed to be strong enough that he didn’t need rescue or help. And now, as Emperor, he was strong.

“Mother will return to us or face the consequences,” he declared.

Vaylin snorted spitefully. “We don’t need Mother or Father. Our parents gave us the power to wield the future. They should’ve known we’d use it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and I never say no to comments or feedback!


	8. Under Their Noses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fiika and Senya sneak through the Old World of Zakuul. Arcann is starting to let his feelings for Fiika affect his actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to get posted, I've had a rough couple weeks between getting sick twice and midterms. The next chapter will hopefully be up sooner rather than later, and then the chapters should be more regular once I'm on summer break.

Pattik eased himself down into the navigator’s seat, back flaring in pain with any miniscule movement. He kept his face impassive.

But it was impossible to hide anything from Lana.

She sent him an inquisitive look, as if she was asking if he was alright.

Pattik waved his hand to dismiss her concerns. There were more pressing issues to be dealt with. He’d become accustomed to the cybernetics and his now-limited mobility eventually. He was a Jedi, and the Jedi adapted to their challenges.

He watched Fiika stand off to the side, half in shadow.

She had the Emperor in her head. She hadn’t adapted to that. She was fighting it, and Pattik couldn’t blame her. The girl dwelled in the shadows, she blended into backgrounds, she liked being as far from attention as she could be.

And back at the Scion’s miniature fortress, she’d been the center of it all.

Knowing the Emperor… Pattik absentmindedly massaged the back of his neck. It was getting stiff. He returned to his train of thought. The Emper- Valkorian had probably revealed himself on purpose. Get Fiika in a position where she’d be uncomfortable, wither down her nerves, and offer a way to help her and get her on his side.

She had pretended he wasn’t in her mind… Had she already allied herself to Valkorian?

A thought struck Pattik and he almost laughed.

He was an idiot.

Of course Fiika hadn’t sided with Valkorian. He’d destroyed Ziost. She was probably giving him hell this very minute.

Pattik smiled to himself and looked up as Senya entered.

The Knight regarded the cluster of people on the bridge warily, reminiscent of a reluctant padawan knowing that they were about to get in trouble for telling the truth. “I take it you have concerns,” she finally said dryly.

Koth sneered. “I can think of a few.” He looked ready to charge Senya with his bare hands and see what would happen.

Lana shushed him. “You’re only escalating matters.”

He turned to her, eyes popping. “You expect us to believe that _she’s_ going to fight her own children?”

Senya strode between them to look out as Asylum, silhouetted against the sunshine. Her voice as soft. “I can’t deny my responsibility for what Vaylin and Arcann have become.” She looked over her shoulder at them. “I have to end their bloodshed.”

“I’ll be glad to help you with that.” The words had escaped Pattik’s mouth before he’d even realized what they were. A Jedi did not seek a fight. But Arcann needed to be stopped; his conquest had to be stopped, or so many others would suffer.

“Good.” Senya faced them, face in shadow and shoulders slumped tiredly. She remained like that for beat. “Valkorian and I never agreed on how the children should be raised, and over time he became more and more distant… more cold.”

Pattik saw Fiika shiver out of the corner of his eye.

“I was afraid of what the children would become, but when I decided to leave… they chose him.” Senya bowed her head. “I couldn’t force them.”

Koth, it seemed, wasn’t buying her remorseful act. He stomped forward and shoved a finger rather rudely into her face. “You’ve been lying to us all this time! Now you give us this woe-is-me story and we’re supposed to take your word for it?”

“I believe her,” Fiika said quietly.

“I’m not you,” Koth fired back.

Senya looked like there was a bad taste in her mouth. “You don’t have to take my word. You can ask the Immortal Emperor himself.”

Pattik, much like everyone else, found his gaze turned upon a suddenly self-conscious and slightly indignant Fiika.

“I’m not him!” she snapped. “I’m me!”

Pattik nodded. He could sense Valkorian hovering in the background, but Fiika was herself, just with an extra mental passenger.

“When Valkorian was in charge,” started Koth thoughtfully. “He wasn’t fixated on waging war. If we can get him back on the Throne-”

“ABSOLUTELY NOT!” roared Fiika.

“NO!” bellowed Pattik.

Lana waited a moment to voice her own concerns so they weren’t drowned out by Pattik or Fiika’s declarations. “Koth, Valkorian is a world devourer,” she said with the dwindling patience of a woman who’d probably explained the exact same concept to Koth more times than ought to be counted.

“He brought direction and stability to Zakuul!” he protested with all the stubbornness of a man who had complete faith in what he believed and wouldn’t hear anything against it.

“Trust me, you don’t know him like I do,” growled Lana.

“No, you don’t know him like I do!”

Senya force-flicked them away from each other. “Neither of you know him like I do.”

The bridge fell silent, save for HK-55’s engine softly humming in the background.

Pattik wasn’t sure what a good response was to that.

Koth came to the rescue of everyone’s awkward quietness. “Try sharing a little less.”

“That- that isn’t what I meant…” Senya trailed off weakly.

They delved back into listening to nothing.

His back twinged as he reached to adjust his trousers. Pattik hissed and returned to sitting up straight, once again rubbing his back. It was impossible to itch the new wires that traveled under his skin.

“Interruption,” HK-55 said, interrupting no one. The droid crossed the bridge to the communication’s console. “The republic astromech has established contact.”

“Tee-Seven?” Lana joined the droid. “What does he have for us?”

“Report: A criminal meatbag on Zakuul has been in search of the Gravestone. This ‘Lady of Sorrows’ alleges that she can establish a dialogue with its computers.”

“Lady of Sorrows?” Koth snorted. “Good luck with that.”

Pattik slowly pushed himself to his feet and peered over Lana’s shoulder at the communication console. It sparked. “I believe it wouldn’t be wise to turn away any help.”

Senya finally found her voice after her verbal blunder. Back in the familiar territory of analyzing and reporting, she spoke. “She’s an information broker, acts as her own enforcer. Never apprehended, so yes, she’s ‘trouble’. She operates in Zakuul’s Old World district.” There was an unmistakable swell of pride in her voice. “I know it better than anyone. I can escort you.”

Pattik looked up sharply. “Me?”

“You are our unofficial leader I thought.” Senya glanced at Lana. “Or was I misinformed as to why you broke into the Spire to rescue him?”

“No, no, you’re right.” Lana eyed him. “But Pattik’s not up to his usual high standards.”

As much as he did not want to admit it, he had to. It would be at least a week until he could even think of sparring. “I’m not healed yet, Senya. And I am a little hard to miss. You need someone who can blend into her surroundings and went through some of the toughest spy training the Empire can offer.”

Senya’s gaze slid confusingly onto Lana.

The Sith stared back, amused. “Fiika. He means Fiika.”

Senya nodded. “Alright. She’ll do fine.”

“Back to Zakuul?” Fiika crossed her arms. “Right onto Arcann and Vaylin’s front door stoop?”

“I don’t think they’ll expect to find us there, do you?”

Fiika looked torn at Senya’s response. “No… but-”

“It’s worth a try, this Lady of Sorrows” interjected Lana tersely. She was squinting suspiciously at Koth while he picked at something on the bottom of his boot with a toothpick. “I’ll walk you to the shuttle.”

Pattik watched them leave. He wanted to go find a nice, soft bunk somewhere and let a medic massage the part of his back he couldn’t reach, but that would possibly involve walking for a long period of time, and after going to and returning from the Scion hideout… he wasn’t up for that. He sunk back down into a chair and wished for longer arms.

Koth turned to Senya, smiling spitefully. “Who knew the Lady of Sorrows would be the key to figuring you out?” He gestured towards the door. “Destiny calls.”

* * *

 

“Now that the truth is out about Valkorian, there’s a shortage of trust.” Lord Beniko gave her an imploring look. “I need you to find it within yourself to try.” She sighed. “Not an easy task. Koth believes in Valkorian. Senya withheld vital information. Neither one trusts the other…”

Fiika picked up her pace as Lord Beniko’s casual walk turned into a quick stride the more she talked and worked herself up.

“And that’s why you must act as an example.”

Fiika discreetly grabbed the corner of the wall to keep from colliding into Lord Beniko as she came to a sudden stop. “I’ll see what I can do, my lord. What about you?”

“I’m too much of a realist for absolute trust- especially after Ziost. But I know their intentions are sound.”

The pair of them turned around as a door opened. Senya walked through and joined them, eyebrows raised inquisitively. “Do I want to know?”

Fiika shrugged. “I’m on my way to prep the shuttle. We should be able to leave in half an hour by my estimate.”

“Then let’s start prepping.” Senya followed Fiika down the passageway.

“May the force serve you well out there.” Lord Beniko’s voice floated down to them.

Fiika had the distinct impression Lord Beniko was watching them go, the same old hard look on her face that hid any soft emotion.

* * *

 

“Emperor’s underwear!” she cursed and stuck her now-burnt fingers in her mouth. From behind her came the shocked choking sounds of Senya at the swear. “How about now?”

“Still not getting access to the hangar controls,” Koth’s voice burst from the speaker. “I think it’s some kind of power outage.”

“We’ll head up there and check it out.” Fiika clicked the protective covering back over the controls and lead the way to the lift.

Something rattled ominously overhead.

She traded a look with Senya when the thing squawked. Then screeched. Followed by red droplets leaking from the ceiling panel.

“That happened after we left,” Fiika suggested.

“What happened?”

“Precisely.”

They took the lift back up to the main level and traveled briskly through the corridors to the power generators.

Fiika took one step through the door when a very yellow and very angry membrane wing smacked her face. She dropped into a crouched and rolled away from the mystery attacker. A glance up revealed a small squadron of furious Wingmaws.

_Oh how delightful. More of them._

Senya balked for a second in the doorway before her lightsaber flared to life. The Knight casually cut them down.

Fiika let her deal with the swamp stowaways. She headed to the control console and flicked a couple switches before toggling on the power.

Nothing happened.

Well, quite a few things happened; Senya finished her brief battle with the wingmaws, on the bridge Koth accidentally smacked his elbow on a sharp corner, and Lord Beniko got into a disagreement with a new glove for her partially cybernetic hand. However, Fiika wasn’t aware of those things. Her attention was on the power console.

Where, quite frankly, nothing exciting happened.

“Koth?” she said into her comm.

“Yeah?” he hissed back.

Fiika glanced at the comm, concerned. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I just hit my elbow in a bad spot. Hm… Odd fluctuations. Relays are gunked up or something. May have to check out the junctions.”

“Alright. Let me take a look.” She opened the nearest fuse box and winced. The wingmaws, it seemed, had a taste for fuses. It would have to be completely replaced. Fiika poked around in nearby toolboxes until she unearthed a small bundle of fuses. She replaced the gnawed one.

The console lights flickered for a brief moment, then steadied.

“Koth, is that better?”

Sounds of something in the background beeping echoed out of the comm. “Everything’s good to go. What was it?”

Senya leaned over Fiika’s shoulder. “An infestation. If they’d grown any bigger, we’d have to worry about more than spotty power. We should check the rest of the ship.”

“What kind of infestation?”

Fiika sighed. “Wingmaws.”

“Aw hell, not again.”

“Courtesy: I will take it upon myself to eradicate these hostile stowaways, Masters. Once I have gathered additional munitions, I will-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy!” Koth cut off the droid. “We can’t have you blasting through the hull left and right!”

Senya and Fiika traded looks as they started back towards the hangar.

“Appeasement: I can employ knives and blunt-force instruments instead. Would that make you feel safer?”

Senya held out her hand for the comm.

“Not… really?” responded Koth.

“Next time, you’re on clean-up detail, Vortena.”

* * *

 

“Approaching Zakuul.” Fiika pulled the shuttle out of hyperspace and stared solemnly at the prickly planet. The spires gave it an unfortunate appearance of looking like a sea creature best left unacquainted it the bottom of one’s foot.

The tiny shuttle was hopefully small enough to avoid any large scanners. If it was picked up, it would appear to be a small trading vessel.

Senya had left behind her Knight armor and was disguised in what Fiika assumed was casual Zakuulan wear. Long poncho with golden thread along the hem, loose pants tucked into calf-height boots. She still had the severe bun.

The Knight had also insisted on sticking Fiika in Zakuul clothing.

Where Senya had acquired it all, no one knew.

Fiika wore a long sleeve shirt in deep gray, a short-sleeved hooded robe over it. The robe reached her knees and, like everything else that was Zakuulan, had a healthy amount of gold stitching. She’d kept her boots and pants. And the various daggers, poison darts, and select few other deadly weapons that were hidden everywhere else.

She piloted the shuttle into the atmosphere, skipping along the tops of clouds to give them cover.

Humming behind her pulled Fiika’s attention from the skies.

“A love the hand of Tyth could not deny…” Senya sang softly. She hummed the melody. “Together forever, you and I…”

“We’re headed back into the heart of Arcann’s empire, and you’re… singing,” Fiika asked incredulous as she dropped the ship below the clouds and into the swamp’s murk.

“What a better time?” Senya pointed at the nearest spire. “Along that wall is the entrance.”

The entrance Senya was referring to was a sanitation pipe.

“Anyway,” continued the Knight, “where we’re going, no one will be looking for criminals. Most of the people there are criminals.”

_That’s comforting._

“Which, of course, presents its own dangers.” A small smile played across Senya’s face as they approached the pipe. “Even so, I do enjoy visiting the Old World. It’s a piece of Zakuulan history. Valkorian’s first attempt at starting a grand society.”

Fiika lowered the shutting to nestle between two trees. “A failed attempt?” she asked as they exited.

Senya’s smile grew. “Only in scale. To him, it wasn’t nearly grand enough.”

They raised their liquid cable launchers at the pipe and fired. The hooks caught, and they rocketed upward to climb onto the catwalk.

Fiika brushed off her knees. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did you meet Valkorian?”

Senya gave her a sidelong look, amused. “The story really isn’t as outlandish as whatever you’re imagining. We met after I earned a place in his elite guard. I never hesitated to speak my mind which…” She trailed off, eyes distant and face softening. For a brief moment, she looked young and vulnerable. “It caught his attention, I suppose. He was fascinating. Bold. Always completely certain of his next step.”

Fiika let herself take a moment to reminisce about a Chiss naval pilot who had been full of pride and certainty and was always for taking risks. Until she was certain Fiika would pick her over the Empire.

She hadn’t.

And Taai had paid for it with her life.

“The way you describe him, I can’t blame you for taking an interest.” Fiika started down the catwalks, deeper into the sanitation system.

Senya caught up. “You also have to understand his place in our culture, our psychology… our entire conception of ourselves. He guided Zakuul’s prosperity for generations. Centuries. What we had wasn’t a child’s notion of romance, but… we were happy.” The smile she’d had earlier turned bittersweet. “Then Arcann and his twin Thexan were born. I loved them so much, but no matter what I did… they wanted nothing to do with me.” Senya paused and looked over the railing at the treated water below. “And Valkorian wanted nothing to do with them. His mind was somewhere else. He barely spoke, barely acknowledged any of us for weeks at a time. And then Vaylin.” A tear slid down her cheek. “Vaylin was troubled from the start.”

Fiika joined her at the railing, voice soft. “I know this is hard for you. We don’t have to keep talking about it if you’d rather not.”

Senya barked out an ugly laugh. “I’ve kept it in for twenty years, and I wouldn’t say it helped. We’ll see if letting it all out works any differently.”

“Okay. If you need to stop…”

“I won’t.” The Knight continued staring down at the water. “I confronted Valkorian. His daughter needed help. His sons needed him. His ‘solution’,” she spat, “was to cage Vaylin’s mind. Most of her power was locked away, along with most of who she was. He ignored the rest of us outright. I couldn’t stand by and watch.”

Senya’s grip on the railing tightened.

“I gathered the children. I tried to tell them we needed to go. They laughed and called me weak. Even as children- even with Vaylin’s power restrained- the three of them together were still far more powerful than me. I couldn’t force them to go. So…” Another tear dripped off Senya’s chin. “I left,” she whispered.

Fiika reached over and patted Senya’s hand. The woman had left behind everything she’d held dear to get away from Valkorian. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been for you.”

She sniffed and wiped at her tearstains. “Better than being trapped there, helpless.” Senya gestured for them to keep going.

“I know.”

Senya gave her an inquisitive look.

“When I was a baby, my father… he was not a pleasant man, and he didn’t ignore my mother when he got upset. She ran away with me when I was a few months old. I’ve never met him, and I never will. Mum married my step-father Luuko when I was three. He was my father.” Fiika discreetly pulled out her blaster and aimed it at a security camera. “What did you do?” She shot the camera.

“I transferred to the Knight’s enforcement division and took assignments at the outer fringes of our Empire. Valkorian never spoke another word to me. Since then, I’ve only seen my children in broadcasts of public events…” Her voice grew quiet again. “Like Thexan’s funeral. He was killed in the Core Worlds... I doubt they even remember me.”

Fiika knelt and started dismantling the security access terminal on the door they needed to get through. “I’m sure they remember you.” Something Senya had said struck her as odd, but… it could be figured out later. Fiika studied the mess of wires and damned whatever electrician had installed the terminal.

Everything was knotted together, making it impossible to follow where each cord went unless they had a couple hours of boredom to kill.

She rocked back on her haunches. “Is there another way?”

“I could-”

The door opened. Fiika leaned over to see the same Republic astromech that’d helped Lord Beniko melt her out. “Perfect timing.”

Senya smiled. “Hello, little one.”

The droid beeped.

Fiika replaced the panel and adjusted her robe. “I never say no to help. It seems like you’re everywhere.”

T7-01 chirped happily and guided them down another series of catwalks.

The air stank of treatment chemicals, and was also an unfortunate mix of extremely warm and humid.

Fiika held her sleeve over her nose. “This is quite pleasant, isn’t it?”

Senya had returned to her businesslike demeanor. “The Lady of Sorrows is wanted for murder and theft of state secrets, among other charges. The Knights have hunted her for years. No one’s come close.”

“I’ve been trained for this. I’ll find her.”

“With my help, I don’t doubt it.” The Knight was silent for a moment. “You may not believe this, but it is rare for someone to escape a Knight’s justice.”

“Like Koth?”

Senya nodded.

“And when that person is the Knight’s own child?”

“We’ll find out, won’t we?” Senya paused, looking hesitant. “Could I… I mean…” She adjusted her poncho and stood tall. “Is it possible for me to talk to him? To Valkorian.”

Fiika open and shut her mouth in surprise.

_Hey Valky, someone wants to speak to you._

Nothing.

“I don’t think it works like that, exactly…” She shrugged.

Senya nodded. “I see. It-” Something clattered off to the side, followed by splashing. She narrowed her eyes. “Lots of things live down here, few of them friendly. We should be careful.”

T7-01 screeched as an amphibious _thing_ burst out of the water and tried to latch onto him. The astromech opened a panel and a miniature blaster appeared. The droid fired.

The creature slid off him and plopped back into the water, floating morbidly.

Fiika studied the droid, impressed.

Senya patted his dome. “You know your way around a fight, Tee-seven.”

The droid clicked proudly.

“I don’t doubt it,” the Knight smiled. “We’ll trade stories sometime.”

T7-01 chirped excitedly and kept rolling.

* * *

 

Arcann stared down at the tiny little Knight who’d nervously knocked on his door. The man had mumbled something about a security breach in the south sanitation facility, something about a missing Knight, and then something that’d trailed off into incoherent sounds as his Emperor’s glare deepened.

Vaylin needed to drill a spine into some of the new recruits, it seemed.

He crossed his arms. “What,” he growled, in the deepest, most fearsome voice he felt like putting the energy into.

The Knight’s hands shook. “A missing Knight down in the southern sanitation facility… and… and… the Knight wasn’t alone, Emperor Arcann. She… she had…” Here the Knight slurred his words together again. “With her,” he finished.

Arcann flicked the Knight backwards into the wall. “Who?” he thundered. “Who was with this Knight?” He had an inkling as to who the Knight could be. As far as he was concerned, there was only one missing Knight worth worrying about.

Mother.

The Knight slid down the wall and pointed towards the corridor. “I… You should see for yourself. It’s… It’s…”

“Izak damn you.” Arcann lifted the man up by his breastplate. “I will not waste my time walking down to the security center. Tell me. Now.”

“Fiika Allos.”

He dropped the Knight.

_Fiika. What is she up to?_

Perhaps he would be making a trip to the security center after all.

* * *

 

The tram hummed along the tracks, easing left and right as it sped through the undercity. The car was marginally full by Fiika’s standards. There was an oblivious pair of lovers in one corner, faces attached at the lips. On the other side of the tram was a pile of rags that occasionally moved to cough. A single woman, armed to the teeth and middle-aged, stood by the door, one hand on her pistol, the other on a pole to steady herself. T7-01 had claimed the real estate in front of the other door.

Fiika sat quietly next to Senya, slouching down into the unforgiving seat and looking every bit the petulant young woman she was trying to be. Hopefully people would assume she was Senya’s daughter and leave them alone. Or they’d see the dagger strapped to Fiika’s thigh and leave them alone.

A couple seats down on the opposite side of the tram sat a pair of men. Well, one was certainly a man. The other… it was more difficult to tell under all the robes and oddly shaped hood. His voice creaked and cracked with puberty.

She strained her ears, toning out the tram and the suction sounds from the kissers.

There was something sinister with how the pair down the seats were leaned into each other.

“-does the return of our great Zildrog mean to you?” the man asked.

The teenager answered. “It means death to disbelievers. It means the end of our corrupt society. It means happiness for all.”

Fiika didn’t like the fanatical whispering coming from the kid. Or how his eyes darted to her. She kept her face trained on her boot as she tried to kick some sewer gunk off it.

“You understand much,” the man whispered. “But do you know what will become of you? Your family?”

“We give ourselves to Zildrog’s glory so that the wicked may be punished.” The young one looked at Fiika again. “We die so that Zakuul may live on.”

_This Zildrog must be quite the god._

“Good. You are on your way. In Zildrog’s name.” The man stood as the tram slowed.

“In Zildrog’s name.” The boy watched the man exit the tram, then turned his attention to Fiika.

She crossed one leg over the other, making it abundantly clear that there was a very sharp, very lethal blade strapped to her leg.

That didn’t stop him. He got up from his seat and sat down beside her.

Fiika felt Senya stiffen. She nudged her back, as if to say, ‘I got this’. She slowly turned to look over at the kid and mustered up the roughest accent she could. “‘Ello there, ‘andsome. You wanna get stabbed, aye?”

He blinked in surprise. “What?”

“You and me dagger ‘ere are ‘bout to get acquainted ‘less you go off on your merry lil’ way.”

He stared at Fiika, completely confused. “You’re not… You’re not scared?”

The lovers and the woman near the door had their complete attention on them. Even a pair of wispy eyebrows and beady eyes peered out from the rags.

She leaned over, grinning savagely. “Starin’s rude, init?” She grabbed him by the back of the hood and dragged him in close enough that their foreheads were nearly touching. “Tell ya what. I’ll be takin’ yer eyes out so you won’t be starin’ at anythin’ no more, aye?” Fiika held up her dagger and tapped it coyly under one eye. “Which one you less ‘tached to?”

The kid jerk away from her and shot down the aisle.

“Not how I would have handled that,” Senya said under her breath.

Fiika kept her dagger out, using it to clean under her nails and send the occasional grin to the boy huddling in the seat farthest from them. “Aye, but it worked.”

“Are you going to be using that accent this entire trip?”

“Nah, just ‘til we’re off this bloody tram.”

“Next stop.” Senya pulled her hood lower. “Keep your head down.”

“That’s a fantastic idea. I thought I might run up to the nearest Skytrooper and tell it that I’m the one who proved the Immortal Emperor isn’t actually immortal, but if I ought to keep my head down, then I guess I will.”

The tram began to slow.

Senya stood and exited through the doors just as they opened; Fiika following her and T7-01 following Fiika.

Fiika took a minute to stare hard at the tram station. Bright graffiti covered the wall near the ramp, proudly proclaiming something illegible in flames. Empty planters were offset with battered benches. One of the lights overhead was burnt out, another one hanging from the ceiling and flickering just often enough to get on her nerves.

“It’s better up top.” Senya started up the ramp.

Fiika pulled her robe about her and went after the Knight.

She hadn’t lied. It was as if reaching daylight transformed the tram station from a nightmare to a golden daydream. Soft light poles illuminated the walkways around towers, there were planters brimming with vegetative life, and people milled about in a little open-air market.

There was something decidedly charming about it.

“This is the Old World as most Zakuulan’s know it- a place to mingle with the rabble and then go home to brag about it. One big party…” Senya looked out over the view, frowning. “I have a contact nearby. Need to go alone.”

Fiika sunk down onto a bench half-hidden behind an enormous pot of pink flowers. Lord Beniko had said to offer trust to their little group. And offer trust she would. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

“Won’t be long.” The Knight disappeared into the crowd.

Fiika’s comm went off. She stuck her ear piece in, deciding that opening a hologram in these parts wasn’t the brightest idea. Not when she wanted to blend in.

HK-55’s voice crackled in her ear. “It seems quite unnecessary that I clean up the creature’s remains. They clearly serve as an effective warning to other potential stowaways. But, Master Vortena was insistent, so the ship will be quite clean upon your return.”

_I do not want to get in the middle of that._

She switched her comm to mute so she could stay tuned into to HK-55’s escapades without him hearing her unless it was necessary, just in case the droid took something too far and she’d have to firmly tell him no. Fiika turned to T7-01. “Got any adventurous ideas?”

The astromech looked as thoughtful as a droid could. He looked up at her and beeped hopefully.

“Not such a terrible idea, actually.” She peered around the frilly pink blossoms that smelled of something reminiscent of sickly sweet medicine and stomach aches. “Is that one?”

T7-01 chirped affirmatively.

“Very well.” She stood up and straightened her hood to look particularly unscrupulous. Fiika slunk through the edges of the market, head down and hearing T7-01 behind her. No one paid the dark shadow any attention, in fact, the dark shadow that was Fiika blended into the murky background of obsidian towers and cold fog quite nicely.

Which meant she could eavesdrop easily once she overheard a conversation between a stall keeper and a teenage girl at the age where growing up still seemed like a grand adventure where she was too young to get hurt.

The stall keeper looked completely bored and unaware of the extra set of ears listening from the little flap at the back of the portable tent. “You saw the Lady of Sorrows? Yeah, ‘course you did. What did she look like?”

The girl’s eyes were huge with excitement. “She had on a crown, like…” She splayed her fingers over her head. “And- and a suit of armor. And she was fast and strong and she could punch and kick and-”

“You watch too many holovids,” interrupted the stall keeper. “You ever do see the lady, my advice? Forget you ever did, and run.”

_A crown?_

Fiika silently slipped out of the back of the stall.

If the Lady wore a crown and shiny metal armor… she was probably vain. That, or she really knew how to make an impression on someone. Even if the deliverer of the information was a kid, all her ideas had to be based on something.

She mulled it over as she joined T7-01 at the surveillance feed terminal.

The droid beeped and plugged himself in.

Fiika casually leaned against the tower, hiding him from view.

The tower’s light flashed red once.

“Tee-seven? Tell me that was supposed to happen.”

His beep could be directly translated as a ‘no’.

As long as Skytroopers wouldn’t come-

_Emperor’s Underwear. I had to go and bloody well jinx it, didn’t I?_

* * *

 

He wasn’t sure if it was her or not.

Since she’d escaped from Zakuul on that lumbering Gravestone, he hadn’t been able to sense her properly. So either that wasn’t her in the Old World, or, and this was the alternative that was much more likely possible and much more likely for Arcann to refuse to believe: Father was shielding her from him.

The tiny Knight had left him alone with the holorecordings.

There were a couple shots of a shadowy figure accompanying someone who was most certainly Mother.

_Are Mother and Father coming for me? Are we going to have a nice little reunion?_

He severely doubted that Father was in charge of Fiika’s body, and that he’d not only speak to Mother, but join her on a little foray into the Old World.

He switched to the next recording.

Same figure, hidden in a hood.

He tapped his fingers on the desk and inserted the most recent one.

The inside of a tram filled the screen.

Arcann ignored everyone but the person sitting beside his mother. The boy further down the seats moved next to her, saying something.

She looked up at the kid, a fierce spark in her eyes and- Arcann hadn’t seen her draw the dagger that was suddenly pressed against the kid’s cheekbone.

He squashed the flare of pride.

That was Fiika.

_Why escape only to return to Zakuul? And why is Mother with you?_

Arcann leaned back in the chair and restarted the security footage. The first recording was in the sanitation facility. They had to have entered through it. He would send Knights to look for a ship in the swamp below and place a tracking beacon on it.

* * *

 

T7-01 stopped in the middle of a walkway, leading Fiika to discover the exact pain of stubbing one’s toe on a droid. The astromech chirped apologetically.

“I’m alright. I’ll be over here when you get back.” Fiika waved off the droid as he went off on his own little mission. She sat down on an edge of a planter, back against the wall, eyes scanning the seedy shops set up.

_‘I had always intended to visit the Old World. I thought I would have the time.’ Valkorian hummed with enjoyment. ‘Delightful.’_

Fiika gritted her teeth.

_How wonderful for you to rear your ugly voice._

_‘You are in a bad mood.’_

_Perhaps I don’t want you in my head._

_‘Being upset will not get you anywhere,’ Valkorian chided. ‘Would answering some of those many questions you have make you feel better?’_

_You want to make me feel better?_

_‘I want your questions to stop cluttering up our minds.’_

Fiika sneered, crossing her arms tightly and going with the first question that popped into her mind.

_Very well. You couldn’t have mentioned Senya was the mother of your children?_

_‘I wanted to see what she would do. In the end, she chose to place her trust in you and your associates.’_

_You claim you want to help, but you’re still playing the same old head games._

_Valkorian chuckled. ‘I granted her the freedom to make her own decisions, just as I have with you.’_

_Granted freedom?! Did you chain her mind like me?_

_‘No. You are not chained by me.’_

_If that were true, you’d leave my mind. Now._

Valkorian remained silent.

A small, hopeful, and unrealistic part of Fiika almost wanted to believe that was a sign that he was gone. The rational part of her told her that she’d won the argument and he was seething.

A beep startled her.

Fiika nearly leapt out of her skin and whirled, dagger at the ready.

T7-01 chirped, unfazed.

“Sorry.” She sheathed the knife.

The astromech clicked and chimed, spinning his dome.

Fiika nodded. “I’ll follow you.”

T7-01 rolled off towards a lift, leading Fiika to the next surveillance feed. He turned his visual sensor to her and bleeped questioningly.

“Zakuulans are snobby.”

The lift soared up and they exited at a quieter level. The lamps were bright, the streets and walls clean of graffiti, no trash in the corners nor suspicious characters lurking in darkness. There were a couple peddlers wandering an open square.

Fiika kept her hood pulled low and paused at a stall, listening to a conversation once she heard a name.

“I don’t see why the Heralds want everything to come to an end.”

“You don’t think folks should do things because the ‘Dark Serpent Zildrog the Destroyer’ said so, yes? You ain’t exactly alone in that, no.”

“See,” the first person continued. “That’s it, though. I was taught Zildrog was a teacher. He offered tests and guidance to make people stronger.”

“Truth is, Zildrog lives out in the Endless Swamp, yes. It’s a monster that rises up and eats whoever’s around, no?”

“Really?”

“Nah, it’s all nonsense, no. All of it, yes. Going to buy a hat, yes?”

Fiika realized the keeper of the stall she’d stopped at was watching her. She bought a stick of eyeliner and smudged it on for dramatic effect before joining T7-01 at the last surveillance feed terminal.

The droid quickly plugged himself into the data stream.

Fiika watched out for skytroopers at the front of the alley.

“Hey, Pretty.”

She squinted at the man stumbling towards her.

“How…” He grinned at her. “How much?” He stank of alcohol the way med-bays stank of sterile chemicals. That is to say, there was a lot of alcohol involved. The man leaned in close. “I got some credits if… What’s that?”

“It’s a dart. On it is a poison derived from a very rare flower found only on the northern pole of Bellassa. It causes your nerves to turn to liquid fire.” Fiika smiled savagely. “If you don’t lumber away now, I will stab you with it.”

The man looked painfully thoughtful. “S’okay. I can find other pretties.” He did as he was told and lumbered away.

T7-01 chirped an inquiry.

“No, it’s not poisoned.”

The droid gently bumped into her and clicked.

“I’ll see you back on the Gravestone.” Fiika gave the droid a salute. “Good luck.”

T7-01 buzzed proudly and rolled away on his secondary mission.

Fiika debated if she ought to return to where Senya left her. And then her comm beeped, disrupting her internal argument. She turned it off mute for a moment. “Fiika here.”

“If you can read me, I might have made some new friends. Could use a hand. Sending coordinates.” Senya spoke brusquely and ended the call as soon as it’d started.

_I suppose I’m on my way._

* * *

 

“Not so fast, Girlie. You gotta pay to get in or show me a reason.”

Fiika stared up at the slimy, greasy, and oily cantina bouncer, of which any other unpleasant textures could easily describe.

He leered back.

She opened her robe, showing off everything underneath.

The bouncer had been expecting something involving cleavage. His expectations were not met.

Fiika watched him take in the blaster strapped to her thigh, the various dagger sheaths, the vials of glowing green goo on her belt accompanied by a few grenades. The inside of the robe had more poison vials in fitted slots and a suspicious number of thermal detonators. And her gray shirt revealed nothing of what was underneath it.

The bouncer smiled weakly. “Head on in.”

She closed her robe up over her shirt and stepped into a cantina with sticky floors and bad air filtration. Rusty furniture missing cushions lay scattered about the room. On tables twirled holographic dancers, entertaining the drunken gazes of well-to-do people who did not match the décor.

In fact…

Fiika took a deep whiff.

The stench was fake, or at least, partially. The air filters worked fine, and the cantina was just pumping out smelly air. Upon closer inspection, the metal furniture was dented too perfectly where one would sit, resulting in a comfortable seat. The sticky floor felt fake, too. Really sticky floors left one wondering what the floor had seen. This floor was too clean. There was no grime built up in the corners or cracks.

The entire cantina was a fake.

She glanced at a bottle of wine on a passing serving droid.

It was expensive stuff.

Odd.

Fiika set her curiosity aside and dodged boozed up Zakuulans on the dance floor. She reached the back room unscathed.

She stepped inside and found a small crowd circling-

“FEEL THE POWER OF ZILDROG’S CLAWS!”

Senya had made friends. The sort of friends that wouldn’t care if they stabbed you in the back or the front, and would run away with your credits to add insult to injury.

The biggest friend lurked back behind the two smaller, scrawnier friends. All three were brandishing their hands like they were expecting birds to come flying out of their sleeves.

Senya looked particularly impatient. She’d unsheathed her lightsaber and was staring down the big friend.

The two little friends rushed forward.

The Knight flicked her hand and sent them sprawling in different directions. One landed next to Fiika and snarled.

She grabbed the friend and sunk a dagger into his chest.

The other little friend joined the big friend in attacking Senya.

Fiika watched for a moment, weighing a dagger in one hand.

Senya kicked the big friend in the chest. He stumbled back into a table, cursing her to feel the wrath of Zildrog.

Fiika threw the dagger.

The big friend keeled over, dead. Having a knife in the throat usually resulted in that ending.

The last friend tried to backpedal away from them.

She got two steps away before Senya separated her head from her neck.

Fiika liberated her dagger from the big friend’s corpse. “Who were they?”

Senya fixed her poncho. “Heralds of Zildrog. Cultists longing for the return of a mythical serpent god. Used to be they were just a nuisance.” She frowned at the bodies. “Now they’re militant.”

_They seem charming._

“Good show! Absolutely wonderful!”

“Well done!”

The well-dressed crowd cheered them on, beaming. Some had holo-recorders and were taking pictures of the bodies as if they were at a tourist attraction. Others were putting credits in a hat that was being passed around. The Zakuulans thought it was an act.

“Are these people for real?” Fiika asked quietly.

Senya looked down her nose at the crowd, expression a mix of pity and distaste. “Their lives are uneventful, no hardship. They come here to feel… something.” She turned and leaned over the bar. “There you are.”

Fiika followed her around the counter, seeing a tattooed man hunkered down between wine and whiskey. He was staring up at Senya apprehensively.

She stuck her hands on her hips, an unnervingly calm smile on her face.

Fiika did not want to be on the receiving end of that smile.

“Siccing Heralds on me, Reg? Not too bright.”

Reg did what any rational rat would do. He spoke before he could think, under the impression he was telling Senya was she wanted to hear, but all that Fiika could pick out of his panicked words were excuses. “It wasn’t me! The Heralds run the Old World now. They made a deal with the Emperor.”

“With Arcann?” Senya’s voice had grown quiet. “What kind of deal?’

Reg slowly stood up, hands held aloft appeasingly. “Heralds keep crime down, and the Knights keep out. You stick around, and they’ll blame it on me.” He looked over his shoulder at the door. “You gottta go!”

Fiika crossed her arms, letting her robe fall open enough to show off her daggers.

Senya stepped closer to Reg. “Tell me about the Lady of Sorrows first.”

“Some of joke, right?” Reg shook his head. “I’ll take my lumps from the Heralds over the Lady any day.”

“And where do I fit on that last?” Senya growled.

“What?”

Fiika watched Senya’s fist get acquainted with Reg’s gut. The Knight let him lean over, wheezing for a moment, before she force-lifted him up to drop him painfully on the floor.

“You know what I can do, Reg. Need another reminder?”

He shook his head and crawled away from her, towards Fiika. Reg stopped when he saw her collection of knives. “Who’s she?” he asked in a small voice.

Senya chuckled. “The mean one.”

Fiika stared down at him unblinkingly.

Reg blanched. “Wait a minute! Wait!” He pulled himself to his feet and leaned against the bar. “I was gonna say ‘You don’t want to mess with the Lady.’ Then I was gonna say ‘But hey that’s your prerogative!’” He fixed his collar, looking at Senya. “You’ve always been square with me, I’ll be square with you. Don’t gotta hit me anymore.”

“Where is she?” Senya asked impatiently.

“I don’t know, but I do know who to talk to. There’s a data seller at Market Station. Mona Gale. She works with the Lady all the time.”

“Mona Gale,” Senya repeated. She nodded thoughtfully. “Alright.” She patted his shoulder. “Sorry.”

Fiika lead the way out of the back room. The Zakuulans gave them another round of applause and compliments. She stopped outside the cantina for Senya to catch up. “Market Station?”

“Yes. Let’s go.”

The pair of them started down an alley.

* * *

 

“Guess who I’ve found?” Vaylin sang as she skipped over to him. Her dark smile was usually reserved for those unfortunate enough to feel her wrath after displeasing her, and Arcann unconsciously shifted to sit up straighter, well aware he’d be ruining her surprise.

“Fiika.”

She gaped at him. “How did you know?”

He didn’t answer. Sometimes the illusion of knowing everything led to secrets being discussed openly as if he was already aware of them.

Vaylin pouted. “She’s right under our noses in the Old World!”

“I am aware.”

“She’s in a disguise.” Vaylin grinned spitefully. “You could dress up in one too and go see her. I wonder how that will go.” She clapped her hands together and stared out at the stars, eyes wide and a simpering look on her face. “Oh Arcann, I’ve been dreaming of seeing you again-”

“Enough!” he bellowed.

Vaylin’s victorious eyebrow raise was met with his glare. She knew she’d gotten under his skin.

He took a slow breath to cool his temper.

“You know she’s not alone?”

Arcann paused in answering. If he admitted he knew Mother with her, Vaylin would be genuinely upset at him not telling her. Better to not risk it and feign ignorance. He did not need her sulking about and ruining his plan. “I did not.”

“Oh, that’s the best bit.” Her eyes lit up. “Mother is here too. Shouldn’t we go say hello?”

He pretended to think it over. “No, let them do what they came here for. I’ll see that they don’t dawdle.” He wouldn’t tell her about the tracking beacon yet. No, he’d wait and make sure it panned out before getting her hopes up.

She sighed. “Fine,” she spat as she spun on her heel and left his study.

Arcann waited a beat to make sure she wasn’t eavesdropping at the door before he called up the newest surveillance footage. The small Knight had been eager to send over every file with Fiika as soon as it was recorded.

She was leaning against an alley, hood hiding her face, but the vials on her belt were identical to the ones glimpsed in previous recordings.

A man lumbered up. He and Fiika traded words, she held something up, and he stumbled away.

Arcann realized she was wearing make-up.

_You are to be watching her to learn her fighting style, not that._

The next file was from inside a cantina, the sort that went out of its way to look like it was filthy by accident.

Mother was facing off against Heralds, and- There Fiika was. She calmly took out two of the Heralds.

Arcann rewound the footage, watching her movements.

It was nearly impossible to see what she was going to do before she did it. No tells, no holding her dagger near her ear as she looked for a suitable target. Just a quick stab and then her knife was flying through the air to sink into the Herald’s neck.

He tapped his fingers on his armrest.

She’d be a formidable opponent, but she could not use the Force, and she wasn’t him. He’d…

What would he do when he caught her?

Arcann shoved that question away to be considered after he’d caught her. Speculation would be a waste of his time.

But… if other Old Worlders tried to fight her, and one got lucky…

He stood and headed towards the Throne. He would be the one to catch her. He had to be.

And one little announcement would have every Zakuulan running from her, ensuring that she’d be given a wide berth he could monitor.

Arcann stalked to his Throne and prepared himself for a speech.

* * *

 

“COME ON! HIT HIM, HIT HIM!”

Fiika stuck a finger in her ear to save her hearing from the over-zealous man on her right.

Senya leaned in to be heard over the crowd. “The arena fights are brutal. I’d shut them down if I could.”

I’ve seen worse on Rishii.

“YOU ARE KIDDING ME!” thundered the man. “MONA!” He stomped up towards a tram car with a hole cut in the side.

Fiika and Senya followed him.

Inside vidscreens covered one wall, the other full of betting slips and odds. The back wall was a mix of a bar and bookie service, bottles and credit boxes sharing shelves. A tall table took up the middle of the room. Behind the table stood a middle-aged woman sporting a bright red braid and a dress with a dangerously low neckline. She snapped her fingers at the man. “Sixteen thousand, Mister Wendan,” she said in a businesslike tone.

The man went from indignant to pleading. “Six in a row. Random match-ups. You have to have an in, Mona. Tell me.”

Mona leaned over the table, heavily mascaraed eyelashes batting. “Enough data at your disposal and anything’s possible. Want to see if seven’s your lucky number?”

Senya stepped forward and plunked her lightsaber hilt onto the table. “Scamming citizens isn’t legal, Mona Gale.” She bit off each word.

Fiika stepped to block the doorway from Mister Wendan. She didn’t feel like being nice and letting anyone escape who’d already seen the lightsaber. They could put two-and-two together and figure out that Senya was a Knight, and if they looked into it, figure out she was a runaway Knight. Probably with a bounty on her head. It’d be best if anyone who saw them was contained.

Mona leaned forward, a challenging glint in her eyes. “I’m not scamming anyone, and Knight have no authority here.”

“Yes you are, and I don’t care. The Lady of Sorrows. Where is she?”

Mona betrayed her snarky mask by blinking in surprise.

Fiika could sense Senya’s smile.

Mister Wendan backed away from them in terror.

Mona pulled her braid over her shoulder to play with it. “If I knew where to find my most lucrative, reclusive, and dangerous meal ticket, I wouldn’t give that up for one Knight and…” She trailed off, giving Fiika an appraising look that made her feel like a discounted sale item. “Whatever you’re supposed to be.”

Fiika pulled back her hood and grinned, letting her scars stretch and stand out white on her lips. They were rather difficult to avoid noticing when she did that, which was her goal. “I’m the outlander charged with the murder of Emperor Valkorian.”

Mona’s penciled eyebrow climbed up her forehead. “The one’s that a block of metal in the middle of the Spire?” she chuckled. “Sure.”

Fiika stared back.

The vidscreens flashed gold before an image over took them.

She was too busy trying to win her little staring contest to give in to her curiosity and see who was on the screen.

“People of Zakuul, this is your Emperor. Hear me.”

Mona broke the staring contest with an eye roll. “Oh, this should be good.”

The four of them turned to look at the vidscreens.

Arcann stood tall, hands clasped behind him and glaring commandingly into the camera. “The criminal who plunged our great Spire into darkness and chaos has finally been identified.”

Fiika had a bad feeling about where he was going with this.

“The craven outlander who assassinated your Immortal Emperor- my dear father- has escaped custody and remains at large, aided by a rogue Knight of Zakuul.” Portraits of Fiika and Senya appeared next to Arcann.

_You’re laying it on rather thick with the rhetoric, don’t you think?_

Arcann kept going. “These deadly agitators were last sighted in the Old World. If you encounter them, contact an authority figure immediately.” He nodded and the transmission cut, returning the screens back to various arena matches.

Senya and Fiika slowly turned back to Mister Wendan and Mona.

Mister Wendan was cowering behind the table, hands up in surrender and chewing on his lip anxiously. He looked one loud noise away from screaming and falling into sobs.

Mona cleared her throat. She still had her composure intact. “So.” Her eyes flicked to Fiika. “Where were we?”

“You w-were about to tell them w-where to find the L-L-Lady of S-Sorrows.” Mister Wendan warbled helpfully.

“Except I can’t!” Mona backed away from them, fear beginning to show. “I really can’t! I don’t even know how to reach her. She only ever contacts me!” She waved her hands as a thought struck her. “But! She does occasionally meet with the Heralds in Breaktown. They have some kind of truce. That’s the best I can do.” Mona looking nervously at Fiika. “Just don’t… agitate… us.”

An unfortunate side effect of going through Imperial Agent training is that, once you learn how to lie properly, you see it being done all the time with Liars possessing less of the skill than you. And Fiika had picked up on Mona lying. Not about where to find the Lady, but that it was all she could tell them. Mona knew more, but was keeping it to herself. Her tell was a slight squinting of the eyes.

She considered pushing the woman to see what else she knew, but they had enough to get what they needed. “Thanks for cooperating,” Fiika stated flatly.

“By sending you there?” Mona’s voice shifted to a higher pitch. “Sure. Whatever. It’s your funeral…”

Senya gave both Mister Wendan and Mona a dark look before storming out of the tram car, Fiika at her side. “Breaktown’s the underbelly of the underbelly. No mingling there. Only corruption and torment.” She paused as they passed a Zakuulan who caught sight of Fiika and nearly jumped out of his skin to get out of her way. “You know, we might owe Arcann a thank-you for unintentionally helping us. That announcement really bought you some clout.”

Fiika flicked her hood back up and pulled it low. “If this is unintentional help, I’d hate to see what it looks like when he does it on purpose.”

They entered another tram station. Senya stopped to read the times on display.

“Can you teach me Zakuulan letters?” Fiika stared up at the unfamiliar symbols, at a loss and not enjoying the feeling it left behind. Agents were supposed to know all there was to know about where they headed, yet she knew select few things, few of which could really help her.

The Knight looked over. “Of course. Once we’re back on the Gravestone and have some time.”

“That’d be fantastic.”

* * *

 

The tram was nearly empty. Fiika and Senya sat silently in a back corner, best to go unnoticed.

The only other passengers were two men who looked like they were wearing mildew and were in desperate need of a half-decent dentist.

Fiika was trying to listen to them.

Senya was not.

But the tram’s rattling was only so loud, and humming would draw undue attention to them. Murder on a tram would get the Knights’ attention.

So Senya tried to ignore what they were debating.

Her boys. Arcann. Thexan. Almost perfectly identical. Thexan had darker hair, closer to her own color. Arcann… he had her mother’s pale blond hair where it practically glowed in the light when it was cut short.

She could remember holding them. Thexan was quieter and would never let go of whatever his tiny hand had latched onto. Arcann… he’d reach for anything and everything and would babble back at her. They both would always try to wriggle from her arms to toddle to their father. Thexan would be insistent and hang onto Valkorian’s robes. Arcann would turn to look at Senya, upset that his father didn’t give him attention.

They were so different…

And now one son was dead and the other a cruel man twisted by his father. It was Valkorian’s doing. He’d manipulated Arcann since the beginning. She refused to believe that this villain was once the boy who’d sat on her lap and told her rambling stories about how Super-Knight Arcann saved Zakuul from an evil Super Monster from the swamp.

Senya looked out the window to hide the wetness in her eyes. She hadn’t even known Arcann had been wounded in the Core Worlds until Thexan’s funeral. She’d recognized the masked figure beside her son’s casket, but it’d taken a moment before she realized it was him.

Yes, Zakuul had won the brief campaign against the Core Worlds, but the cost was too high. One Prince had lost an arm. The other had lost his life.

The tram slowed and Senya wiped discreetly at her eyes.

The two men stood by the door, still discussing her sons.

Senya stared ahead and pushed out with the Force, jarring their minds none-too-gently from the topic.

Fiika either hadn’t noticed the redness in her eyes or was too gracious to point it out. Either way, Senya was distinctly grateful.

She forced herself to focus on the task at hand as they left the tram. “This is it. Where people who fall on hard times keep falling. Even when the Knights policed the Old World, we never lingered here for very long.”

Breaktown was worse than she remembered. Weeds sprouted in cracks in the durasteel, the planters filled with refuse. It was a decrepit old place filled with looters and criminals and Heralds. Even the lights seemed too timid to brave throwing out anything more than a dim glow.

In the distance a Herald’s green lightsaber cut through someone else.

_Oh, Arcann, what have you done, making a deal with the Heralds?_

“I can see why,” Fiika said quietly.

“I know where the Heralds are quartered, but they won’t give up any information willingly.” Senya crossed her arms and ducked her head as they started into the winding maze of alleys.

Fiika strode next to her, copying her body language. “Is there anything they want that we can give them?”

That struck Senya as funny. She let a small smirk show. “Short of bringing about Zildrog’s return and the mass cataclysm they hope will follow?” Her smile faded to seriousness. “There are no deals to make with people like this.”

Fiika nodded and drew her robe about her as if to ward off chills.

* * *

 

Mona was almost insulted. The key word was ‘almost’, because anyone who is truly insulted usually doesn’t think first with their head but with their indignation at being insulted.

So Mona was almost insulted, just bothered enough to look haughty but not enough to lose control of her tongue. “I said, they seemed determined to meet you.”

The hologram waved.

“No, I told them Breaktown.” That’d been a rather ingenious bit on her part than Mona was particularly proud of. She hadn’t lied to the Knight and the outlander with her, but hopefully they’d make it ten meters into Breaktown before the Herald’s mobbed them. And then wouldn’t be a problem anymore. “That’s all,” Mona continued. “Like I want to get on your bad side again.”

She unconsciously rubbed the scar on the side of her face, hidden under too many layers of make-up and synth-skin.

The Lady of Shadows cut the holo-call.

Mona started cleaning up her stall. After the little spectacle of the Knight, no one came up to bet on the arena fights.

_Figures. Now they think I’m working with the authorities._

“You, Gale.”

She whirled around, simpering smile plastered on until she saw the speaker and his friend.

Heralds.

_Oh Izak help me._

“You’ve seen the fugitives,” the taller one spoke. His mask and robe has bits of silver decorating it. He was a higher-level Herald than his companion.

Mona mustered up the act of a harried woman too busy to be bother with them. “Come on, you know how this works. You give me credits,” she snapped at them as she re-organized her case of betting slips. “I give you information.”

The smaller Herald slammed the lid shut on the box.

“We know they were sent here,” said the bigger one. “Tell us everything, or end up like your associate.”

“What associate?”

“I believe his name was ‘Reg’ something.” The big Herald nodded to the little one.

The little Herald held up a hologram of a mangled body. The poor man’s eyes were gone, his belly sliced open, holes in the middle of his hands and feet. But the tattoo on his face was unmistakable.

Reg.

Mona’s skin turned to ice. “You know who I work for,” she hissed. She got the uncomfortable feeling that the Herald was smiling down at her.

“And you know who we work for.”

* * *

 

Someone was following them. Fiika would be considerably less concerned if she wasn’t sure that it was a multiple someones.

Senya had forged ahead and Fiika and lurked back in an alley empty of everything but copious amounts of trash and a drunkard sleeping it off under a pile of flimsiplast sheets. A minute after Senya had left her, a trio of Heralds had snuck past.

Following Senya.

And now Fiika was following them.

There was an old riddle her uncle used to ask her, something about fools following other fools, but Fiika couldn’t recall the words properly and it seemed like a circular argument anyway.

Her comm beeped quietly.

_Not now!_

She flicked on her earpiece to answer it.

HK-55 sounded a little too giddy for her to hang up immediately. “I have determined that the industrial strength cleansers that Master Vortena insisted upon using are, in fact, highly lethal when applied to the infesting creatures directly. This revelation should accelerate my completion of the task considerably, Master Allos.”

Fiika moved to the next shadow, still tailing the Heralds. She hung up on the droid. Distractions were somewhere near the top of the list of things she didn’t need.

The Heralds paused at the end of the alley. Fiika silently climbed partway up a fence to see over them.

Senya was standing alone at the base of a set of shallow stairs. Neon green graffiti heavily decorated the walls, and the gate at the top of the steps was twisted to look like a mouth. Above it hung a blood-red banner, and to compliment the banner were a lovely pair of turrets mounted on balconies.

The Herald’s hide-out.

Using one arm, the other keeping her from falling off the fence, Fiika set a grenade and lobbed it at the three Heralds.

It exploded and coated them in poisonous slime. Specifically, paralyzing slime. The Heralds mutely fell to the floor in various awkward poses.

She leapt down and squelched through the slime to join Senya. “I took care of them.”

“I can see that.” The Knight peered up at the turrets guarding the stronghold. “A lot of firepower standing between us and their leader. They call him ‘The Exalted’. Arcann put him in charge here, but he’s little more than a servant. And not a sane one.”

“About time you got here.”

Fiika whirled, daggers in hands as she dropped into a defensive crouch.

Senya’s lightsaber lit up the alley.

The speaker grinned back.

“Koth?” Fiika asked incredulously.

How did you get here from the Gravestone so fast?

“I had to make a run here for some special parts and Teeseven told me were headed into Breaktown, figured the rest for myself. Didn’t think there was a scenic route to get here.” He joined them at the gate, eyeballing the turrets.

Senya looked livid. “What in Scyva’s name are you doing here?” She poked him in the chest. “Couldn’t trust us to get the job done?” A pair of pink spots were developing rather nicely on her cheeks.

He backed away from her, hands up in a peaceful gesture. “I didn’t stay ahead of you all those years by trusting the wrong people.” Koth glanced at Fiika apologetically. “No offense, Fiika. You, at least, I want to trust, so let me clue you in.” He pointed at the gates. “The Exalted one hates Knights. He won’t say one word to Senya.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not dressed like a Knight!”

Koth gestured to himself. “Look, I’m regular people. I speak their language. You want to make a deal with the Heralds, I’m your man.”

Senya stiffened with forced calmness and faced Fiika. “They’re delusional thugs.” Her tone was clipped. “There’s no deal to be made.”

Fiika massaged her temples for a moment. “Would you two both like to go in together?”

“No!” they protested in unison.

_That’s one thing the pair of you agree on then._

Both wanted to go in, but not together. Only with her. Koth had come out of his way to see that they were safe, risking traveling through Breaktown even though they could have already have been in the Herald’s compound.

Senya had been with her since they’d started in the sewers. And in all likeliness, she would know more about them. It wouldn’t be fair to her to have her sit this out.

The two of them were looking at her expectantly.

She made her decision. “It’s clear the two of you can’t work together. Senya, you’re with me. Koth, keep your eyes open.” Fiika pretended she didn’t see the crestfallen look on his face. She nudged open the gate and slipped inside, Senya on her heels.

Koth stared at them from the other side. “You’re making a mistake…”

Fiika feared he might be right.

“Imagine if they put all this energy into a real cause,” Senya muttered.

Fiika turned around and felt her mouth open in surprise. A decent amount of docks were layered between spires, ships and freight in abundance. Speederbikes were parked neatly in circles. Heralds watched them cautiously as they moved further into the compound.

Senya marched her way through the docks and into the stronghold.

Few Heralds remained in her path once she neared them.

Fiika trailed along in her wake. Heralds turned her attention to her and she kept her hood low and robe hiding her weapons.

Some things were best left to the over-active imagination.

The walls of the stronghold were covered in more bright green graffiti. In here, the lights were mostly broken. Holes in walls allowed the Zakuulan fog to seep in. The end result was an effectively creepy aesthetic that would deter almost everyone.

Almost everyone, because Fiika and Senya were going right through it as if it didn’t intimidate them. However, fog is well known for making everything difficult to see, and in the dark corridors of the Herald stronghold, Fiika unknowingly walked right into Senya’s back.

“This is bloody awful,” she muttered. “Sorry.”

“I think we’re here.” Senya light her lightsaber and held it aloft.

The fog retreated from the blue glow that illuminated the serpent head emblazoned on the door.

“I think you’re right.”

Senya deactivated her lightsaber and tucked it away under her poncho.

Fiika waited a moment for their eyes to adjust before she opened the door and strode in.

Light.

A lot of light.

Blinding light.

Fiika blinked and squinted as her eyes became accustomed to the sudden brightness. A semi-circle of Heralds ringed a comically oversized ornamental serpent’s head on the wall. Green jewels glittered in the eye sockets.

“Thank you, outlander, for saving me the trouble of hunting you down.” The man in the center of the crescent slowly turned to face them. His hair was white, but not from age. It hung it matted sheets down the sides of his face, red eyes boring into her’s. A scale-like tattoo the color of blood covered the right half of his face.

The Exalted.

He was also rather short. Which explained why he was a standing on a dais.

Fiika wasn’t quite sure what to make of him. She slowly approached, hands held to show that she had no weapons in them. Well, to be accurate, no weapons that could be seen. “I need information I’m told only you can provide.”

The Exalted studied her with mild contempt. “Do I look like someone who cares what you want?” A chunk of hair fell in his face and he impatiently tossed it back. “You cannot be allowed to remain in the Old World. Your presence threatens the order we have fought to maintain.”

I believe Arcann could also use those exact words to describe me.

Senya pushed past her, accusing finger aimed at The Exalted. “Order, but not justice,” she fired back. “You let criminals thrive, prey on the weak. You monsters!”

The Exalted’s nostrils flared in outrage. “The crime is cultivating a society dominated by ineffectual fools who have never known adversity! And you!” He looked pointedly at Senya. “I have terms with Emperor Arcann. No Knights! I saw your lightsaber. We have cameras!”

Senya was not backing down, as was her prerogative. “Get us a meeting with the Lady of Sorrows.”

It appeared The Exalted was unaccustomed to taking demands, let alone from a Knight of Zakuul or one as stubborn as Senya. He sneered. “And then you’ll leave? Is that your proposal?”

“There is no proposal. Do it.”

Fiika stepped forward to be level with Senya before she said anything else that would wound the man’s pride further. “We only need an audience with the Lady, then we’re gone.”

He studied her. “Curious. What could you want from her, I wonder? What makes it worth the risk of coming here?”

Fiika saw Senya take a deep breath and elbowed her discreetly to stay silent. “I get the feeling you wouldn’t mind seeing Arcann off the Throne.”

“If you think you can defeat him, I have no qualms. Arcann gave us power, then implemented so many restrictions that we are in many ways powerless. And he has sapped the spirit from Zakuul!’ The Exalted threw his arms out dramatically. “Most don’t even realize.” He pointed at her. “But his undoing, it cannot be at your hands.”

“Why not?”

“Valkorian’s fall, Arcann’s rise…” He looked at them with eyes glittering with fervor. “It all conforms to prophecy. You… do not.”

Senya shifted impatiently. “Are you in compliance or does this have to go another way?”

The Exalted treated the Knight to a genuine smile. “By Zildrog’s grace, I do enjoy your vigor.” His eyes wandered over her.

Senya looked rightfully offended.

He turned his back on them and held his arms aloft towards the head mounted on the wall. “But when our great Serpent returns, he will rain death upon Zakuul and cleanse it of all that is wrong. Including the likes of you. On my mark.”

The Heralds around him raised their rifles.

Perhaps Koth was right and this was a blasted idea in the first place.

Fiika and Senya were saved by a bell. A holoprojector bell, to be precise, the sort that announces when one has a call that can’t be ignored.

A flickering hologram of a Nautolan appeared under the ornamental serpent head. “Exalted,” she crooned in a heavy accent.

“I’m busy!” he snapped.

“De Lady of Sorrows demands your attention now.”

Senya leaned over to Fiika. “I’ve never seen a species like that before.”

“Nautolans. They’re amphibious.”

“Hm.” The Knight studied the hologram thoughtfully.

Meanwhile, the Nautolan was busy pissing off The Exalted. “Your grip on de Old World has become a stranglehold. You continue to act counter to de Lady’s interests, most recently with de murder of her contractor, Mona Gale.”

He waved a hand, dismissing her. “This can wait. I have…company.”

Fiika could have sworn the Nautolan smirked.

“De Lady has decided to re-negotiate de terms of your agreement.”

The Exalted whirled back around to face her. “WE HAD AN AGREEMENT!”

“And now you will agree to a new one.” The Nautolan reached to something not seen and suddenly a hologram of a much younger version of The Exalted appeared.

“Father!” he cried.

“Brennan!” The Exalted stamped his foot. “Release him at once!”

The Nautolan smiled and nodded. “Come to de Razor. You and de Lady can discuss your son’s future.” She hesitated, then pointed at Fiika. “And you. De Lady would like to speak to you as well.”

Fiika stepped forward. “You’re a long way from home.”

That got a real smile. “Zakuul is de center of de galaxy now. That makes it home. De Lady of Sorrows is fully aware of who you are, Fiika Allos. And now she also knows what you are after.” She once again reached for something and then Koth appeared.

He waved cheerfully. “They want me to tell you I’m okay. Which I am.”

The Nautolan reappeared. “So that’s that.” She looked severely at The Exalted. “Under no circumstances are you to kill this outlander. Understood?”

He nodded. “Understood.”

The hologram flickered away.

The Exalted headed towards a set of stairs half-hidden behind a banner, the majority of the Heralds following him. He got halfway up and looked down at Fiika and Senya. “Kill them.”

The remaining Heralds raised their rifles.

Fiika dove behind a crate. She felt blaster bolts pound into the durasteel.

_Oh, perfect. It’s a bloody explosives box._

She primed a grenade and pitched it blindly over the bin. And shoved her fingers in her ear. In this enclosed place…

Senya threw herself down beside her.

The grenade exploded.

Smoke filled the room, adding to the stench. Senya rolled away and crawled behind another nearby box.

Fiika raised her head above the crate.

A couple Heralds still stood, unfazed with the explosion or smoke due to their helmets. They swept their rifles through the haze.

Daggers wouldn’t work in this situation. She drew her blaster, aimed, and fired. And then shot to her right as the Heralds’ shots hammered into the explosive’s bin.

Senya leapt out from behind her hiding place and carved a Herald in half. She drifted back into the smoke as soon as she’d appeared out of it.

They fired at the explosive box again.

Fiika caught sight of Senya and pointed towards the stairs.

She nodded and burst into a sprint towards them.

A Herald caught sight of the Knight.

Fiika rushed behind him and introduced her foot to the small of his back via roundhouse kick. A quick twist and his arm was dislocated.

The other Herald was completely oblivious still intent on the box she’d been hiding behind before.

She left the Heralds there and ran after Senya, meeting her atop the stairs. Fiika pulled another grenade, set it, and lobbed it down to the explosive bin.

“Run,” Senya uttered, and the pair of them raced down the hallway.

An explosion shook the stronghold.

Fiika spurred herself on, lungs heaving and legs pumping. Senya was right beside her, looking decidedly less winded.

They burst out of the stronghold into a suspiciously quiet alley.

Senya braced her back and took breath.

Fiika propped herself up on her knees. Compared to the smoky and foggy interior of the Herald stronghold, Breaktown’s air quality seemed to have improved remarkably. She looked up at the Knight. “That was rather fun.”

“We clearly have different concepts of fun.” A small smile appeared on her face. “But… it felt good giving them what they deserve.”

Fiika gazed out at the trash-filled alley and the street beyond it. “So to this Razor we go?”

Senya nodded. “That would be the best plan.” She paused and force-flicked away some rusted tanks. “Do you know how to hotwire a speeder?”

* * *

 

“Update: my sensors cannot detect any further traces of the infestation aboard the Gravestone, Master Allos. Recommendation: you may wish to acquire thirty to forty gallons of industrial strength cleanser while you’re in the Spire. Our stocks have been… somewhat depleted.”

Senya stared at the comm device. “That droid is unlike any droid I’ve met before.”

Fiika nodded. “HK-55’s…. one of a kind.” She hooked a right turn and angled the speeder up over a collapsed bridge.

The air whipped past her, chilling her ears. The hood had long since fallen off, and Fiika enjoyed her undisrupted line of sight while she piloted. It was almost like before, when it was her and Lord Beniko. Fiika would pilot, listen to Lord Beniko’s musings and offer her own advice.

Of course, now they were not on Dromund Kaas, and it was not Lord Beniko in the passenger seat.

“This is a good place to stop.” Senya pointed out a cluster of Herald swoops.

Fiika parked the speeder and together they headed towards the Razor. Technically Fiika was following Senya, for she didn’t know the way.

“What is the Razor?”

The Knight peered down an alley suspiciously. “It was once a high-end apartment building. Crime lords and gangs have worked from it in the past.” She gestured to the cleanest tower in the vicinity. “That’s it. It’s not somewhere you want to go without backup. Nothing good lives there.”

They rounded a corner and spied a small cluster of Heralds around an electro-fence.

“I’m guessing that’s the entrance.”

“You guess correct.”

Fiika selected her last grenade and opened it up. She removed most of the explosive putty and replaced it with a couple vials of acidic poison. She selected the length for the timer, aimed, and threw.

The grenade bounced and then rolled to a stop in the middle of the little group.

_Ten._

The Heralds dove away from it.

_Seven._

“It was a dud,” Senya said flatly. She reached for her lightsaber.

_Five._

Fiika tugged on her sleeve. “Hold on.” She nodded towards the Heralds.

_Three._

They were coming out of hiding and creeping closer to the grenade.

_Two._

A Herald toed it.

_One._

And the grenade went off, spewing acid onto the Heralds. It through their masks, robes, armor. Anything it touched vanished into smoke and ash.

Senya watched in horrified fascination as the Heralds started to scream. “You…” She pursed her lips. “That is not a pleasant way to die.”

“It won’t kill them.” Fiika strode towards the security console. “It becomes less effective the longer it’s exposed to air.” She stepped over an unconscious Herald. “They’ll be out from the pain for a couple minutes. After that they’ll really want to find some kolto.”

“It’s… disgraceful. Not fighting your enemies hand-to-hand and relying on poisons.”

“It’s survival.” Fiika pried open the console and frowned at the wires that greeted her. “In training, it was survive or… Let’s just say that if you didn’t survive training, you didn’t survive in general.” She drew a dagger and sliced through the green wires.

Senya leaned over her shoulder, watching her work. “So you survived.”

“Actually, I failed my last training mission. I got these.” Fiika patted her lip scars. “Lord Beniko happened to come by and save me. She insisted I become her personal pilot.” She carefully moved the black wires around and studied them. Something wasn’t right… One of the black wires was a red wire with a different coloring. Fiika shifted it with the rest of the red wires and cut the black ones. “I didn’t survive, but I was rescued. I owe Lord Beniko my life.”

The Knight kicked down the fence. “I understand. You will do anything to survive.”

Close enough.

Fiika drew her daggers as they entered the Razor.

Security droids with melted cores greeted them. The droids covered the floor like a carpet. Or, perhaps, a warning system. Jarring one would cause it to hit another, creating a clanging sound that would likely echo.

“The Heralds?” Fiika asked softly.

Senya nodded and pointed to the green graffiti on the lifts. “I doubt anyone else is stupid enough to do that.”

They picked their way through the droids and stood before the lifts.

One graffitied one dinged open on its own accord.

Fiika traded looks with Senya. “After you?”

“Hm. I was going to say the same.” The Knight stepped into the lift. Once they were both inside, it shot up, a surprisingly smooth ride for such a dated building.

The lift slowed and stopped, dropping them off on what looked like a garden level. What had once been beautiful landscapes were now overgrown messes. Ivy climbed up light poles, flowers leered from trash receptacles, and the water feature were more like a fungus feature.

“There.” Fiika pointed across the atrium at the other lift. It was open and waiting for them.

They made it about halfway to the lift before boots thudded down behind them.

“I knew I would find you,” said a voice.

Fiika turned and saw a pair of Knights. Both were very tall and very muscular. She squinted. “Should I know you?”

“I am not amused,” snarled the Knight on the right. “You escaped lawful imprisonment, then ordered your friend to kill my partner! You’re going to pay!”

Senya stepped up. “Stand down, Novo.”

“Stand down, traitor!”

“You abandoned your Scion brethren. Who’s the real traitor?”

Fiika listened to them argue, trying to place this Knight Novo. Then it clicked. Their escape from the Spire. She had vague memories of Lord Beniko choking a Knight. Was it this man’s partner?

Knight Novo activated his lightsaber and advanced. “I’m glad we risked coming to the Old World. Now we can get the credit for neutralizing two criminals.” He charged Fiika.

She dropped into a slide and sliced as his legs above the greaves.

He howled and spun, lightsaber whipping past where she’d just been.

Fiika danced away and slipped over to Senya’s dual against Knight Novo’s new partner. She ducked under a wild swing and stabbed him in the thigh. Senya booted him in the chest and sent him tumbling over, howling in pain.

Knight Novo did not see his new partner on the ground and decide to surrender. Instead he attacked with even more fervor, throwing all his significant weight behind each parry and thrust. Senya beat him back. Not with sheer strength, no, Senya easily deflected his attacks and switched between fighting with her lightsaber deactivated, using his size against him, or she would swing her lightsaber around for a quick jab before blocking his.

Senya won when she spun away from a desperate lunge and knocked Knight Novo upside the head with the hilt of her lightsaber.

He fell over, unconscious.

Fiika peered down at him. “Shall we tie them up?”

“They’re likely to come after us again.”

“We’ll leave that for them to decide.” Fiika stooped and collected their lightsabers. “That might be difficult if they have no weapons.”

Senya nodded in agreement. She took stun cuffs from the Knights’ belts and looped them together, connecting Knight Novo’s wrist to his partner’s ankle.

Fiika decided that if they managed to get away, they’d look utterly ridiculous. She gave the Knights one last look before she and Senya entered the lift waiting for them.

And up they went.

* * *

 

Sure, he’d been captured, and sure, he was being treated a lot better than he thought he would’ve been, but still, did the droid lady SCORPIO have to leave the creepy frozen Herald guy in front of him?

It was unnerving. To say the least.

But outstretched hand of the Herald did make for a good place to stick the wrappers of the various snacks Thea the Nautolan had brought him. Snacks that he’d had the stomach for until SCORPIO had started choking The Exalted. That had ruined his appetite instantly.

Koth looked up at the ding of the lift. The doors slid open, and…

Fiika stepped out. She slowly sheathed her daggers as she took in the very dead Heralds that lay scattered across the floor.

He’d done in a couple of them.

Definitely not as many as SCORPIO.

Something popped to his left and he winced. It sounded painful. The Exalted’s whimper sounded painful, too.

“I know. You didn’t get the deal you wanted,” purred SCORPIO. “But you did get the deal you deserved. Think of it this way, Exalted… you’ll finally be with your great serpent.”

There was a snapping sound.

Koth wasn’t sure which was worse. SCORPIO’s cold approach to murder, or her voice. Both made him want to stand with his back to a wall.

Senya trailed after Fiika up the stairs towards SCORPIO.

Koth stuck his tongue out at the Knight and then pretended he hadn’t when Fiika looked over at him. He nodded hello to her.

“So… you’re the Lady of Sorrows?”

SCORPIO nodded. “I am SCORPIO, Fiika Allos. I had suspected you were one of the outlanders that had escaped the Spire, but I was unable to confirm it until today.” The droid tilted her head, studying Fiika. “I’m curious. What would you do with the Exalted’s son?”

Said son, whom Koth had dubbed Exalted Junior, had been picking at his nails for the past twenty minutes. Koth had generously offered him free advice that he ought to wash his greasy hair, and received a kick in the shin for it.

Fiika looked at the young man and shrugged. “You got what you wanted. Let him pursue his life as he sees fit.”

Koth liked that answer. A lot. His admiration for her ticked up a couple notches.

“Not unreasonable, but my full intent has yet to be achieved.” SCORPIO’s head turned all the way around on her neck and Koth looked away before his stomach could process what he’d just seen.

Yes, SCORPIO was a droid.

It was still unsettling to see a head turn around that far on a neck.

“There is nothing to stop you from becoming the new Exalted now,” she continued. “I expect you to honor your end of our agreement.”

Exalted Junior bowed. “Of course. I can finally lead the Heralds to the glorious future we deserve, and you will have your just rewards.”

“Then leave.”

Exalted Junior strode towards the lift.

Fiika finally turned to Koth, and he relaxed. She looked okay. Maybe smelled a little like smoke and sweat, but other than that, she appeared to be fine.

He shrugged at her searching gaze. “Probably not the condition you wanted to find me in.”

She grinned. “She was worried about you.”

“WHAT?!” Senya snapped in outrage. “I was not.”

He was pretty sure there was a double meaning behind her words. “I believe it,” Koth said significantly.

_I believe you were worried about me._

“So how did you end up here?” Fiika picked at a bit of lint on her robe.

Koth suddenly wished he still had is appetite. Shoving a protein bar in his mouth would give him time to think of a courageous story. Instead… he shoved his hands in his pockets and told her the truth. “She got the drop on me while I was minding the Heralds. Gave me a jolt. Woke up here and she explained who she is.” He nodded at SCORPIO. “I told her what we’re doing with the Gravestone. I think she’s on board, but I also think she might be more dangerous than Senya. Do we trust her?”

He wasn’t sure if he trusted SCORPIO or not. On one hand, he was alive. On the other hand… he’d still been captured.

Fiika looked thoughtful. “As long as our agendas are aligned, I think she’ll make an invaluable asset. And there’s no one else who thinks they can talk to your ship.”

“Ha! You said it. My ship.” He grinned at her flat look.

They looked up as SCORPIO spoke to Thea the Nautolan. “Continue operations in my stead. Annihilate the Heralds of you must. I will remain in touch.”

“Very well.”

Eavesdropper.

Koth frowned. Obviously SCORPIO had been listening in on their private conversation. He’d have to be more careful about that in the future.

Fiika tilted her head and considered the droid. “So you are coming with us?”

“Naturally.” SCORPIO stared at Fiika. “I wish to speak to the Gravestone. I look forward to communicating with an intellect that rivals my own for a change.”

Koth was pretty sure that SCORPIO had just insulted all of them.

“What about Arcann?” Senya demanded.

SCORPIO turned to gaze at her. “He has something of mine. The severity of his error must be recognized.”

“What’d he take?” Koth asked. SCORPIO’s eye sensors drilled into him. “Just…. Asking…” he trailed off. It as if he’d really expected her to answer. Which he had.

“Well,” Fiika said, looking around and everyone. “Let’s head back to the Gravestone.”

“Good idea.” Koth gave the creepy frozen Herald one last look. “Bye.”

The Herald-scicle didn’t answer.

* * *

 

His flagship took up most of the view from the Throne.

Arcann turned back to the Eternal Fleet displayed before him. He pressed a button on the Throne’s armrest and spoke his orders. “Fleet Units Five-Two-Two, Eight-Six-Five, and Nine-Eight-Three will prepare for deployment. Combat protocols fully engaged.”

Fiika would not escape this time.

No, he’d get her, bring her back here... Someone would have an idea on how to separate Father from her.

A hologram of a GEMINI appeared. “All GEMINI command units confirm. Preparations are already underway.”

For the first time in a while, Arcann felt… eager.

“Follow the coordinates on the tracking beacon,” he instructed.

It was time to go on the offensive.


	9. Mistakes and Realizations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arcann doesn't leave Zakuul for just anyone, and Fiika saves the Gravestone. Koth saves her. And Senya can't save her daughter.

“You’re nervous, aren’t you,” Vaylin teased. It was subtle, it was. He hadn’t done anything drastic to his appearance, his clothes, or anything else that could be noticed by anyone but her. Oh no, her big brother looked his usual self. Except he’d obviously taken great care in making sure his robes were perfectly folded, his hair was freshly buzzed, and as Vaylin had noticed almost immediately, he wasn’t slouched in his seat like usual.

“I am not.”

_You’re lying._

“Hm.” She prowled around Arcann, studying him. He ignored her. Vaylin poked his armor and smirked at the polish on her fingertip. “Then you want to impress her.”

Arcann finally relented and gave her his full attention. “Is this going somewhere?”

Vaylin knew her innocent smile wouldn’t fool him, nor would her tone. “I just want to protect my big brother from getting his heart broken.” She pouted dramatically. “Sisters should do that, right?”

He turned back to staring at space as the pilot pulled them out of hyperspace.

_No, that won’t do._

He had to know that the bitch he fancied wouldn’t consider him as anything but the monster who’d kept her frozen on his wall for five years.

“Do you really think she’d agree to your foolish plan?”

Arcann’s eye slid back to her, the annoyance prompting her to continue.

“I mean, she knows you kept her imprisoned for years and broke your promise to let her live.”

“I di-”

“Is being locked away really living?” she crooned softly. He nodded his apology. Vaylin took her seat as they neared Asylum. Such a horrid name for a horrid-looking place. No taste for architecture at all. “So you took away five years of her life and now you’re hunting her like a swamp creature. She won’t trust you. You’ve already broken one promise.”

The doubt on his face was a small victory.

Vaylin leaned across her armrest to seal the deal. She wouldn’t have her brother abandon her, and let alone for some harpy. Mother had left her. She wouldn’t have him do it too and toss her aside. “Besides, you’ve killed almost half our family. What if you lose your temper and kill her? Your little crush on her is another weakness.”

“I am not weak.”

Vaylin watched Asylum grow larger as they approached the floating rust bucket. “Where are we dropping you off?”

“Above the Scion’s stronghold.”

“Approaching the stronghold, Emperor.” The pilot slowed and lowered the exit ramp.

Vaylin waved at him as he prepared to leap down. The wind was mussing up his tediously folded robes. She grinned savagely. “Give Heskal my love!”

He glared at her as he jumped off the ramp.

She turned to the pilot. “Back to the Fleet. We have an invasion to launch when that girl won’t agree to him.”

“Yes, High Justice.”

 

* * *

 

Lana watched the new droid out of the corner of her eye. SCORPIO, Lana was willing to bet, was crafty and even more pragmatic than her.

Something about her was unnerving. Perhaps it was the distinctly feminine frame. Droids weren’t typically designed with an hourglass frame in mind. Or maybe it was the glowing eye scanners with layers to look like irises and pupils…

Regardless, Lana had resolved to keep an eye on SCORPIO. The droid seemed like the shifty sort that planned for everything.

“Here we go!” Koth announced. He pushed up a lever.

There was a hum, and the power generators finally turned back on. The bridge lights flickered, the scanners lit up, and the colorful buttons blinked on.

And then the lever sparked and Koth was thrown back.

“Whoa!” Tora cried. “You almost friend the power core, fat fingers!”

“That’s Captain Fat Fingers.”

Fiika chuckled next to her.

Lana raised an eyebrow. Her pilot was watching Koth, looking amused and faintly infatuated. “Don’t,” she warned. Romantic distractions were the last thing any of them needed. No, they had to keep their minds on the task at hand, work towards getting Arcann off the Throne, and not, most definitely not, wasting time thinking about any sort of attachment. She didn’t have time to get distracted from formulating plans and writing up files. Not that he did either on Rishii, but he’d seemed-

_You are distracted again. Focus._

She dragged her attention back to the bridge.

SCORPIO and Koth were standing eye-to-eye over the access terminal, which was made all the more impressive by the sheer fact that SCORPIO had extended her neck up a couple inches to make the staredown possible.

“I do not have time for technical primers,” SCORPIO admonished.

Koth bristled. “Neither do we. Keep your shiny metal mitts to yourself.”

“Well we gotta fix this rustbucket somehow!” Tora elbowed her way between the two and poked SCORPIO in the chest. “Fix the hyperdrive first, Bolts.”

“Acceptable. For now.”

Lana swore the look SCORPIO gave Koth was triumphant.

HK-55 seemed to take offense at Koth’s wishes being overridden. He raised his rifle and aimed it at SCORPIO. “Statement: Ready to vaporize.”

SCORPIO continued uploading data, staring down the other droid. “Your lack of intelligence is insulting.”

Lana nudged Fiika towards the door. “Let’s give them some space. This bridge can only hold so many personalities.”

_Without bloodshed, that is._

“I’m used to it.”

“I imagine so, given who’s inside your head.” Lana gestured towards the lounge. “What are your thoughts on SCORPIO?”

Fiika frowned. “She tried to insist on piloting the shuttle back. You know how I am with other pilots in my cockpit.”

“It typically ends with you piloting and them never challenging you again.”

“She’s probably also listening to our conversation.”

Lana sighed with resignation. “Lovely. Not that we have any privacy, considering who’s inside your head.” She strode into the lounge and nodded to Pattik. T7-01 was chirping softly at him.

The Jedi was lying on his belly on one of the new couches. His tunic was folded neatly under his head, spinal cybernetics exposed, the skin around them red and angry. “’Lo,” he greeted sleepily. “I was… meditating.”

Fiika threw herself down on the couch beside him. “I thought it was called ‘resting your eyes’.”

“Something like that.” He slowly pushed himself upright, wincing. T7-01 handed him his tunic.

Lana remained standing. “I do have some good news.” She waited for them to give her their full attention before continuing. “I’ve received word from my agents on Coruscant and Dromund Kaas. Certain elements of each government are willing to discuss an alliance to unite their forces against the Eternal Throne.”

Pattik braced himself on his knees, nodding thoughtfully. “We can only defeat Arcann by working together.”

She turned to Fiika. “And you?”

Lana had been expecting a cautionary agreement where Fiika would endorse the alliance idea with copious amounts of reservations. She lost all faith in her pilot’s ability to focus once she saw the spark in Fiika’s eyes.

_Really?_

Fiika’s knowing grin stretched across her face. “And who was this contact on Coruscant?”

“Confidential,” Lana snapped.

“You know what other contact you used to call confidential.”

“It’s not Theron, Fiika.” She turned to Pattik for assistance. He couldn’t abide with Fiika being unreasonable and completely ignoring the pertinent information solely for gossip, right? He would straighten her out; he’d taken her under his wing before.

Instead Pattik seemed intensely interested with one of his fingernails.

Lana forced her anger down to store away for later. “But how-“

Fiika’s comm went off. She stared at it in confusion before turning it on. A hologram of a vaguely familiar man appeared. Long robes, metallic armor- A Scion.

The leader of them, if Lana wasn’t mistaken. What did he want? It’d been barely a few days since they’d stormed his little stronghold, and since then the entire crew had given that area a wide berth.

The Scion looked taken aback at his audience. He pointed at Fiika. “Your presence is requested. Come alone.”

“By who-”

The call ended.

Lana stared up at the ceiling. Now the Scions wanted to get involved… that would complicate everything with the possible alliance. Neither the Empire nor the Republic would trust Zakuulan fortune-tellers. And if they only wanted to talk to Fiika because she had Valkorian in her head… She could feel a headache forming. Lovely. Perhaps that would distract her from the ache in her hand. “Charmer, that one.”

“Zakuulans are by nature,” Fiika said sarcastically. “But I suppose should be the charming sort and go fulfill this request.”

“Be careful. We need the Scions, but zealots are unpredictable by nature.”

Pattik smiled wryly. “After last time, I doubt they’re looking for a rematch.”

“All the same…” Lana studied Fiika critically. She could handle herself in there alone, even if Lana didn’t like it. “One hour. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll rip that sanctuary apart. There’s only so many people I trust to have my back.”

“I’m flattered.”

T7-01 beeped excitedly and nudged Fiika’s leg.

“I would love the company.”

 

* * *

 

They’d redecorated.

Fiika moved deeper into the Scions hideout, debating with herself if she ought to go back outside and see of T7-01 had left the alley yet.

The rugs were  uneven, the couches jumbled around. One of the display cases of electro-staffs and pikes was broken, a few weapons missing. A dangling blue light lay on the corridor’s floor.

She picked it up.

The chain had been cut by something that’d melted the metal.

_Something’s not right._

Fiika kept one hand on her blaster and another on a dagger, watching the shadows as she moved through the darkness. The hiss of the ventilation system rattled down the chilling halls and bounced around the rooms, creating whispers that told her to run away.

As she got further into the hideout, the more disarrayed it got. A chair was completely overturned, the light chains were twisted. The stench of something… Fiika couldn’t put her finger on it. It was like she was smelling an electrical discharge where the air was sharp and tangy.

Something powerful had moved through here and fought back the Scions easily, leaving very little evidence of it.

Fiika stopped outside the main chamber where Heskal had revealed her secret. Was this another Scion test? Or a trick?

There was only one way to find out.

She hit the button for the door and slunk under it before it could properly rise to her height.

Fiika’s blood turned to ice.

A rectangle of blue light slowly grew alongside her silhouette as the door rose behind her. Everything else had a faint pink glow from Heskal’s lightsaber.

He stood in the center of the chamber, eyes glowing white and arms raised at his sides.

Surrounding him was the sight that’d frozen her. Slaughtered Scions littered the floor. Some were whole. Others… it was better left a shadowed mystery.

“You wanted to meet.” Fiika took a step forward and kept her face impassive as something unfortunate squelched under her heel. “Heskal?”

He deactivated his lightsaber. It rolled from his fingers and clattered to the floor, plunging the room into near complete darkness. Only the faint light from the door permeated the shadows and let Fiika see Heskal float up from the ground. His head was back at an awkward angle. He opened his mouth, but only wheezes escaped.

A gold lightsaber pierced his chest.

Fiika stared in horror as Heskal was Force-pushed off the lightsaber and the Scion thudded painfully into a column.

The shadowed figure who’d done so stepped forward.

Something shone on his face, flecks of gold reflected the light, and an eye burning like hellfire.

Arcann.

 

* * *

 

Fiika.

He sheathed his lightsaber and stood tall.

She masked the surprise on her face and slowly strode up to him, her hands probably resting on weapons beneath her robe. Her eyes were guarded and suspicious, shining silver in the dim light. He could have watched her walk towards him forever.

“I don’t leave Zakuul for just anyone. Be honored.”

“You bloody followed me!” she spat accusingly.

“I was invited. Heskal arranged all of this.” Arcann stared down at her, watching her move, discreetly studying the shape of her lips when she screwed them in distaste. She was alive and before him.

Fiika shifted her weight, crossing her arms. “You murdered his people. He hated you.” Her eyes flashed. “He’d never help you, even if it was for some _vision_ he had.”

_So you do not believe in their lies of the future either._

Arcann turned and faced the pair of statues. “He believed his destiny was to betray you. Scions have always worshipped at the false altar of fate.”

She joined him, still a healthy distance away. He caught a glimpse of a dagger strapped to her thigh. “Why do you kill them? They just see things differently.”

“They had too much power. My subjects would have believed their lies of my future.” Arcann faced her. “I am beyond prophecy. I forge my own destiny by making the hard choices. Now it's your turn.” He clasped his hands together behind his back.

She still stared up at the statues. “If you wanted to fight, we wouldn’t be talking,” she said absently.

“I have the imagination to see many solutions to a dilemma. Unlike Heskal.”

Fiika finally looked up at him. “You want to make a deal.”

“I am not without mercy. Surrender. You will return to Zakuul until I find a way to rid you of my father.”

_His vault on Nathema must have something…_

She blinked. It was the only indicator that she was mildly taken aback by his suggestion. “And the others? My companions?”

He gestured figuratively towards the door. “Free to leave. Without the Gravestone, of course. It belongs to the Eternal Throne. You understand.” Arcann prided himself on this plan. She would be treated like royalty on Zakuul. He would see to it that her carbonite poisoning was fully cured this time, no one would dare question her about Father’s death.

He would return the kindness she’d showed him tenfold.

And perhaps… perhaps she’d show him that kindness again.

She only needed to say yes.

“No.” Fiika shook her head. “The Gravestone is the only ship in the galaxy that can stand up to your Fleet. You can’t have the one weapon that could end you.”

He stamped down on the frustration flaring in his chest. It was replaced with pride, which also was stamped out. She knew how to negotiate a hard bargain.  Arcann watched her with interest. “And what would you give up in return?”

“I’ve already got your blasted father in my head, and I would give up the rest of my freedom to go with you to Zakuul. You would get to truly end your father. Is that worth the Gravestone?”

His empire would be vulnerable to the ship attacking. It could make him look weak or clueless. But if it meant the threat of Father returning would end…

“I will need your promise that your companions would not seek out a fight with my fleet.”

“Lower the amount of tribute the Republic and Empire must pay you, and that will not be a problem. If the two sides are allowed breathing room, they will be less inclined to show the galaxy what the Gravestone can do.” Fiika stared unblinkingly up at him, a challenge in her eyes.

He could not let it be known that the Fleet had a weakness. “I will do what I can.”

She looked thoughtful.

Vaylin would be getting impatient. He had to get Fiika to agree and tell the Fleet before his sister did something foolhardy.

“I’m a busy man. Don’t make me wait.”

“Or what?” she fired back. “Going to hang me on your wall again?”

Arcann couldn’t answer that without digging himself into a deeper hole.

Fiika sighed. “Very well. I agree to this… surrender and the terms we’ve discussed. Koth keeps the Gravestone, you lower the tributes from the Republic and Empire, and I go with you to Zakuul so you can remove the bloody ghost in my head and kill him for good.” She held up her comm. “May I call them and tell them the plan so they don’t turn the Gravestone on the ship that would be transporting me?”

“Certainly.” His flagship could withstand a hit or two from the Gravestone, but why damage it needlessly?

She raised the comm.

Time stopped.

Fiika slowly looked up, eyes wide with fury.

Arcann turned, following her gaze over his shoulder.

Father’s ghost was glaring at him with disdain. “I do not know what I hate more… cowardice or incompetence. You will never be rid of me, Arcann. Not until you kill her.”

_No._

Hatred blazed through his veins. No, Father would not ruin this.

“I am no coward!” Arcann roared. He stormed up to the ghost. “I have brought Zakuul to glory beyond what you could have ever imagined!”

“Not a coward?” growled Father. “You attempted to assassinate me twice by stabbing me in the back. Your disappointing lack of learning from your mistakes will be the end of your reign.” His cold gaze swept to Fiika.

Arcann shifted to block his view of her before realizing how foolish it was. Father existed in her mind. All he’d done was give away that he had emotions towards her.

The ghost noticed and gave him an icy glare. “No.” Father turned to Fiika. “You know he killed his brother. An accident, of course. But I would wonder what would happen if you were to upset him.”

_How dare you manipulate her._

Arcann built up the Force in his fists. Gold lightning crackled around him and he threw the force at the ghost.

Father frowned, bored. “You do not have your sister’s skill or strength in the Force. Why waste your energy?” He drifted over to Fiika. “Fear the snake that believes himself a dragon. My son will betray you.”

And with that, Father disappeared.

Fiika was staring flatly at the scorched mark on the wall from his lightning. “I’m going to call my companions now before anyone else disrupts this.” She raised the comm. “Lord Beniko, it’s me.”

“That was fast-”

“Arcann’s here,” Fiika spat. “Defend the ship.”

His blood boiled. It was Father manipulating her. He had to be, she’d agreed to the terms.

And then she turned to him, completely herself. “Fool,” she spat.

The wound to his pride, especially coming from her, pushed him over the edge. She thought him a fool? He stormed towards her. He would prove to her that he was not.

A dagger sailed over his shoulder.

She ducked around a pillar and lobbed a poisonous grenade at him. He flicked it away with the Force.

_I am not a fool!_

Arcann pressed a button on his comm. Vaylin would receive the signal to attack.

Fiika burst from around another pillar and whirled at him, daggers flashing. He dodged her stabs and swept his lightsaber towards the knives. Cutting through them would render them useless. A dagger pierced the elbow joint of his cybernetic arm.

Sparks shot out and the nerves in his chest screamed in pain.

He threw a raw wave of the Force at her.

Fiika flew backwards and smacked into a pillar. She stared dazed at him. Blood dripped from her lip. She’d bitten it and one of her scars had reopened.

Arcann yanked the dagger out of his arm and hissed at the relief.

And then the world exploded.

 

* * *

 

Skytrooper dropships swarmed the skies. The Eternal Fleet poked out of the approaching storm cloud like claws, intent on snatching Asylum out of the sanctuary it called home.

Len Parvek, First Mate to Captain Koth Vortena and current commanded of the Gravestone defenders, opened his mouth and cursed. He wasn’t specifically sure at what; there was an abundance of choices to pick from. The Skytroopers, the Fleet, the blasterfire currently scratching up the hull that just been repainted. There was also Vaylin leading the charge towards the Gravestone.

Something on the ship exploded and he cursed that too for good measure.

And why wasn’t the Gravestone firing back?

Len jammed the button on his comms. “Hey! Shiny! Do us all a favor and get those cannons firing!” He hoped that fancy new droid hadn’t done anything permanent to the Captain’s ship.

“This vessel’s targeting algorithms were inferior. I am upgrading them.”

_What?!_

“That is not a priority right now!”

They needed cover fire now, no matter how blasted bad it was. It was Len’s philosophy that even if aimed at nothing, one would still hit something. And maybe that something would be a Skytrooper dropship. Or Vaylin. He preferred the latter, but wasn’t that choosy.

SCORPIO didn’t seem to approve of his opinion of the algri- algorm- whatever it was. “Improvement is always a priority.”

_Not when we’re this overrun with ‘troopers!_

He gritted his teeth and let loose another round of fire. Two Skytroopers fell, just as twenty-something more were unloaded from a dropship to take their place.

_FUCK._

The hull on his left cracked under heavy fire, and a not-so-small piece fell off. The Captain would’ve have banthas by the basket if he’d seen it.

“Activating firing patterns,” said the droid over the comms.

_‘Bout time._

Len cursed the dropship coming in to land behind the latest one.

The Gravestone’s cannons blasted it to pieces. And the next dropship. And the next.

“I take it all back,” Len roared into his comm, trying to be heard over the crew cheering. “That’s some good shooting…” He watched the latest cannon victim go spiraling off towards… “Uh…” He cleared his throat and checked to see if the Captain was on the line. He wouldn’t like what Len was about to say. “Didn’t that just go down near the Scion’s hideout? Somebody better check on that outlander.”

 

* * *

 

She had to come with him.

Father would twist her, turn her, Father would destroy her from the inside out. And if she dared defy him…

Father had to die. For good, this time.

Fiika did not seem to understand that killing his father did not mean that she would die as well. There had to be an artifact on Nathema that would leave her spirit in her and only rip Father out of her mind. Or perhaps he could convince Father to leave her…

Arcann dodged her blasterfire and flicked away the poison-gas grenade. It would do nothing. He could sense her around the pillar, his mask filtered everything in the air.

She sprinted out from behind the pillar and dropped into a slide below his kick.

_Very well._

Arcann thundered after her. He held his lightsaber aloft for light, and-

Crimson bolts tore from the shadows. Blaster fire. And another grenade.

He deflected the bolts away from her and continued his advance.

Fiika had managed to get between him and the door.

Izak damn him, he’d been trying to keep her away from there. She could slip away again…

An explosion rocked the stronghold. The floor bucked, the walls cracked. One tumbled down into rubble. Dust floated down from the ceiling as a statue tipped over sideways. Sunshine poured down onto him from a hole in the roof.

He stared across the silent chamber at Fiika. She’d fallen over onto her back and was propped up on her elbows, trying to skitter away from him.

A tiny little cracking sound, barely audible at first to his highly-tuned senses, started up. It slowly built until Fiika could hear it. She stared at the nearest pillar in horror.

The base was cracking.

The pillar slowly tilted towards her.

No.

She’d slip away again, but it was an acceptable alternative to losing her forever.

Arcann threw out his arm and Force-pushed her out the Scion’s door, out of the path of the pillar.

The pillar landed with a thud and a cloud of dust, blocking his path after her.

 

* * *

 

“Tell me you’re alive!” Lord Beniko’s voice burst from the comm.

“Alive, yes… Intact…” Her blaster had been left behind. Along with any certainty towards Arcann. Now she was just confused and armed with knives. “Mostly.”

The Sith sighed. “The Gravestone is under siege- but we’re not leaving without you.”

“Hold tight. I’m coming.” Fiika spun in a circle, staring at the scattered and smoking remnants that’d once been the Scion’s hideout and the alley. The stench from whatever was on fire was only a slight improvement from before it’d begun to burn.

Slowly the adrenaline in her veins cooled.

And Arcann… Had he… Had he just saved her life with the pillar? Hadn’t he just wanted to kill her to end his father?

Why save her?

In fact, why agree to any of her terms? Why negotiate? He could have killed her the moment she’d seen him. But instead, he’d opted to talk. He’d been surprisingly reasonable, if cocky. And he’d accepted her terms, despite them crippling Zakuul.

All because… what, exactly?

_Get your head out of your arse._

She shook off her confusion and looked around again.

_Which way’s… Oh bloody hell, I’m lost._

Fiika climbed over a mostly demolished wall and threw herself down, breaking into a sprint.

Heskal was alive.

A pair of Knights were dragging him away by the arms. The Scion slowly looked up at her and blinked. And then, with the smallest of movements, nodded towards the Knight on his left.

Fiika winked and drew her daggers. She crept across the bridge towards him, boots muffled from the ashes and drowned out by the creaks of the surrounding infrastructure.

Heskal yanked his arms away to have a coughing fit, giving her the cover she needed.

She rushed forward and buried one dagger through the left Knight’s neck. An instinct told her to duck, and Fiika dropped into a roll. She kicked out a boot and winced as it was met with the other Knight’s greave.

The Knight spun her lightsaber and danced out of reach of her daggers. “The assassin,” she hissed.

“Honestly now, it’s been five years since Valkorian died. Can’t I have another title? I’m not an assassin… usually.”

The Knight bellowed and charged.

_Idiot._

Fiika dodged the wild lightsaber jab and her dagger met flesh.

The Knight’s body landed with a crash.

She wiped off her daggers and turned to look at Heskal.

He sat propped up in a corner of the alley, blood dribbling down, clutching his belly. His face was gray, lips bloodless. Heskal certainly looked as though he’d been stabbed through the stomach, thrown face first into a pillar, and then aggressively dragged over rubble by Knights, but telling him to his face would simply be rude.

“You look ghastly.” Fiika crouched beside him.

“A… new thread weaves… through Fate’s tapestry. As I… foresaw.”

“Then Arcann did tell the truth. You did bring him here.”

Heskal smiled faintly and coughed. His teeth were pink from blood.  If the aorta has been cauterized… the blood had to somewhere. Like his lungs. “You being together is necessary. You… will see.” He winced and touched his mouth. He stared at the blood on his fingertips blankly. “The Scions will remain your allies. Each of them will return when it is their time to die.”

“No more Scions need to die!” she said sharply. “Tell me where they’ve gone and I can… protect them.”

Enough people have died already. If offering them a safe place meant less death, then so be it, even if they were… Scions.

He smirked, eyes glazed. “Their fates are… sealed. Like yours, emmp-” His words became slurred.

“Heskal.”

“I have no regrets. I… have seen the future. It is glorious,” he breathed. His shoulders slumped as his head fell forward.

_Oh no. No no no no no nononono-_

Fiika shook him and groaned.

The Scion was dead.

 

* * *

 

She lived.

He’d pushed her out of the way in time.

But he still looked like a fool. He didn’t have her with him; she’d escaped with his help. And now her companions knew he was here and he’d been forced to play his hand.

His anger grew.

Arcann was no longer in control of the situation and didn’t like it one bit. Fiika had upset his power, turned his negotiations into… into… him giving her anything she wanted while he was intoxicated with seeing her in person.

She’d taken advantage of him.

The anger turned to a roar in his ears.

He raised his comm.

 

* * *

 

Vaylin skipped past the Skytroopers, her personal guards jogging with their shields beside her, blocking the blasterfire. The sharp breeze tore at her skirts and cape, sending them into dramatic flutters behind her. She skidded to a stop at the beep of her comm.

“Hello brother.”

His words were cut off sharply with fury. “Spare no defender.”

The plan with Fiika must have gone horribly.

Perfect.

She grinned and responded, hiding her glee. “You always know just how to brighten my day.” Vaylin pointed at the Gravestone. “Let’s reclaim our property.”

She saw Fiika sprint out of a door and weave to the docking bridge.

_Spare no defender._

“Attack!”

 

* * *

 

Len roared and brought up the rear as Lana stormed into the advance of Skytroopers.

She kicked, stabbed, jabbed, sliced…

There wasn’t a whole lot left for him to take care of. And he was a little okay with that. Well, it did leave more time for him to check her out.

The Captain had said that she wasn’t seeing anyone. And she was really smart, and strong, and a Sith. Sith, in Len’s opinion, were scarier than Knights and definitely wilder. Of course, his experiences with Sith were limited to Lana and maybe a few more, but Lana was something else.

She roared and a whole row of Skytroopers were thrown back.

Ears ringing, he ran after her for cover as she met the Captain’s crush. Fiika something.

“We have problems,” Lana said.

Fiika pitched a grenade into the Skytrooper battalion and ran with them back to the Gravestone. “Tell me the hyperdrive isn’t one of them.”

“SCORPIO fixed it, but Arcann’s forces locked the docking clamps. We’re grounded.”

Len watched Lana leap ahead and take out a trio of Skytroopers blocking the way.

_Whoa._

Fiika hurried next to him.

He wouldn’t let her get hurt, oh no, the Captain would be pissed if she got hurt. Len had seen how worried Koth had been when she’d collapsed from the carbonite poisoning. Something told him another serious wound wouldn’t go over well.

And so Len blocked her from the worst of the fire with his body. It wasn’t like he had one of the fancy Knight shields or anything.

She didn’t seem to notice as she sprinted after Lana. “We can’t abandon the Gravestone. The Fleet’ll tear us to shreds.”

Lana rose from a crouch, blonde hair whipping about like a halo in the wind. A storm was on its way. She nodded at Fiika’s words. “Koth and HK are en route to the Control Spar, but they need help.”

“Don’t worry,” Len said. He puffed out his chest. He could watch the ship. “The Gravestone’s in good hands. Go get our Captain, Blondie.”

_Oh Esne’s eyes. Did I just…_

Lana’s silent glare told him that he did, in fact, just call her Blondie out lout. And did not like it.

“I mean… Miss Beniko.”

_I’m not ever gonna have a chance with her, now, am I? I’ll live._

They’d made it to the docking bridge safely.

And then the Skytroopers stopped firing.

Slowly Len looked up to see Vaylin approaching, a tiny little grin on her face that made him back up a couple steps.

She pointed at Fiika, remaining a couple yards away for her own safety. “Tsk, tsk, you weren’t very nice to my brother. You hurt his feelings.”

“Was that meant to be plural?”

Vaylin’s creepy little smile slipped off her face.

Len backed up a few feet for good measure.

“Now I get to kill your friends. And maybe even you, but I’ll save you for last, so Arcann can see.” Vaylin activated her lightsaber.

Len gritted his teeth and did not back up another foot. The crew was watching; he’d be brave.

Fiika’s fingers were tapping out a rhythm on her daggers’ handles. “I thought your brother wanted me alive.”

“He does. I don’t. And he’s not here to stop me.”

Something vaulted over Len’s head and he squeaked. And held his ground. He’d go down with a fight.

The something was Knight Tirall. She swept across the docking bridge and planted herself in front of Fiika and Miss Beniko. “I am here to stop you.” She flicked her head at Miss Beniko. “Go. This is a family matter.” She turned back to her daughter. “Vaylin.”

Len still was struggling to believe that Knight Tirall was former consort of Emperor Valkorian. And Arcann and Vaylin’s mother. One would think that some of her better temperament would’ve been inherited by her kids, but nope.

Miss Beniko and Fiika turned and ran towards a set of lifts.

Vaylin didn’t spare them a glance, her attention solely on Knight Tirall. “Hello, Mother.”

Another something shot over Len’s head and he ducked. Force of habit. Tora used to throw things. A lot. He looked up and saw Jedi Pattik joining Knight Tirall, his robe flapping in the breeze.

It was about to get ugly.

Len backed up the last step and found himself with the rest of the crew hiding in the relative safety of the hangar.

 

* * *

 

“Koth, we’re on our way to the Control Spar. What’s your status?”

Fiika sprinted beside Lord Beniko, eyes scanning the alleys and shops for Skytroopers. Everyone was out fighting against the Eternal Empire, it seemed.

“Up to my neck in Skytroopers.” Koth’s response came out in static.

“Where?”

“Not quite chin high but definitely above the collarbone.”

She snorted and swallowed her laughter. Stars, he could be funny. Fiika plastered on a seriously look at Lord Beniko’s stern frown.

_Ah, yes, no laughing during a desperate mission. How dare I enjoy a sense of humor._

Fiika rounded a corner and swore at the sight of Skytroopers.

“Statement,” HK said over the comm. “I am with Master Vortena at the Free Zone security substation.”

She charged the droids and dove under the blasterfire. Her daggers clashed against the Skytroopers’ armor, nicking wires and ruining their perfectly polished look. One malfunctioned and fell over, arms flailing. The other-

_Ow._

Fiika squeaked as pain exploded on her left side, directly below her ribs. The edges of her vision turned blurry.

A red lightsaber carved the droid in half down the middle.

“Are you alright?” Lord Beniko grabbed her arm and dragged her towards Koth’s location.

Fiika cleared her throat. “Perfect.”

“Good. We must free the Gravestone.” She shoved Fiika past an alley housing more Skytroopers. “Keep moving. I’ll clean up behind you.”

_Isn’t it where I’m supposed to clean up after you?_

Fiika didn’t question her orders; she forced herself to keep running, arm hugging the bruise developing on her side and boots pounding. No Gravestone meant no escape, and no escape meant back to Zakuul, back to being Arcann’s prisoner-

He never said she’d be in carbonite.

_Focus and get to Koth!_

She rounded a corner and sighed at the sight of a squad of Skytroopers assaulting Koth, a large amount of gangsters, and-

_Ah, Tora’s lovely friend._

The Weequay bellowed and stormed towards the Skytroopers. His vibrosword, even if it didn’t cut through their plating, was heavy enough to still dent them and throw them back. He wore a vicious grin as he threw himself into the battle.

Fiika made a mental note to not get into a fight with him.

The gangsters and Koth were behind barricades, protecting the door. “Take your time!” Koth shouted. He was looking right at her.

Her daggers wouldn’t be that useful in close quarters. There were too many Skytroopers. The only alternatives she had were grenades. Which would piss off the Weequay if he survived the blast.

Getting shot wasn’t something she relished at the moment.

“C’mon, boys, die on your feet!” The Weequay booted a droid back and buried his sword through the exposed power core. “This is our turf, don’t give it up! I’ll shoot anyone who tries to run.”

She needed a blaster.

Fiika spied a broken Skytrooper and relieved it of its rifle. She gave the Weequay some cover fire as she ran to join him.

A red blur whipped past her and joined the Weequay.

Lord Beniko. From the look of things, she was already used to her half-cybernetic hand. She spun her lightsaber around and then shot the Skytroopers full of brilliant purple lightning, knocking the remaining few down. Permanently.

Koth waved them over. “Arcann locked down the whole network. He controls turbolifts, blast doors, docking clamps, you name it. We need the main override station.” He pointed out the window at the towering arm over the port. “That’s on top of the Control Spar. I sent HK to clear a path.”

“Accommodation: I have left you a trail of meatbags to follow, Master.”

Koth frowned and flicked off his comm. “We’re securing all doors to the Control Spar. No more meatba- ugh.” He winced. “ _Reinforcements_ will get in. But someone has to hold this choke point with Vik.”

Fiika checked the rifle over. If she was needed to hold the point, she could. Lord Beniko was the Sith Lord, she ought to the Control Spar. Fiika was her back-up and enforcer, and she could enforce the  choke point’s security.

“That’s my job.” Lord Beniko nodded over at the Weequay and his gang. “They could use some muscle.” She gave Fiika a sidelong look, as if she could sense her surprise. “Not another firearm. Senya and Pattik are busy with Vaylin at the Gravestone. It’s up to you and Koth to get the ship free.”

“Yes, My Lor-“

“Vaylin’s at the ship?!” Koth’s voice had gone up an octave. “My crew!”

Fiika cocked her rifle. “I can reach the override station alone if I have to.”

Lord Beniko had fixed Koth with one of her frightful glares. “Everything depends on freeing the Gravestone.”

He stared down at his boots, fuming. Without warning, he turned and kicked over a Skytrooper helmet and looked up at Fiika. “She’s right,” he spat. “Let’s go.” There was a dangerous glint in his eyes as he opened the door.

 

* * *

 

Koth had very long legs. Very nice long legs that Fiika forced herself to not admire as she broke into a jog to keep up with him.

He wasn’t talkative, probably due to worry about his crew against Vaylin.

She couldn't blame him for being quiet over that. Fiika was worried too.

They burst through the last door and sprinted towards the shuttle on the far landing pad.

Lord Beniko’s voice crackled over the comms. “Arcann brought all his toys!”

_Wha- Bloody hell._

A walker dropped down from a carrier, stirring up dust and dirt around it in a cloud. The massive war machine slowly stepped forward and regarded them with twin assault cannons like a flutterplume watching its prey before devouring it.

“Shit.” Koth said.

The walker opened fire.

Fiika dove to the side and rolled behind a set of crates, offering protection from sight but not heavy repeating fire.

The walker kept firing and she heard Koth roaring curses.

She crawled around the crates and saw him dancing away from the walker’s cannons, trying to shoot the eye slits. “JUST FALL DOWN ALREADY!”

The walker had no idea she was behind it. Fiika burst into a sprint and leapt, boot landing on the walker’s leg. She pushed up and grabbed ahold of the emergency hatch with her hands. With an awkward twist and a promise to keep up her fitness, she wrapped her legs around the handle and hung upside down.

Fiika carefully pulled the last pair of grenades from her pockets and armed them.

She grabbed ahold of a pipe-

_EMPEROR’S UNDERWEAR!_

She bit down on her tongue to keep from screaming out at the freezing pain of the coolant pipe. Fiika spun her hips and unlocked the hatch with her legs. She pitched in the grenades and dropped to the ground in a painful heap.

_Get out of range, get out of range-_

Fiika tore past Koth and grabbed his sleeve. “Come on!”

They threw themselves behind a fueling grav-sled.

The walker exploded. A wave of heat rolled over them as ashes swirled like snow and smoke filled the air.

“You’re really something.” Koth grinned at her. He climbed to his feet and offered her his hand.

“I bet you say that to all the girls who blow up walkers.” She let him pull her up gestured to the shuttle. “After you.” She scanned the skies for anymore incoming distractions as they hurried into the transport and took off towards the arm extending over them.

Koth was still unusually quiet.

In fact…

He’d be quiet since he’d found out Valkorian was in her head. Before he’d given her discreet smiles and teased and never shut up. Now it was perturbing politeness and topics related to the ship.

She settled into the co-pilot’s seat, prepared for a very short and very mute ride.

“Emperor Valkorian talks to you, right? He have any advice?”

_Well Valkorian? Any advice for me to ignore?_

Her thoughts were met with petulant silence. “He’s giving me the silent treatment.”

Koth fired at a runaway Skytrooper dropship. “He’s probably got a lot on your mind. The Emperor is a great man. If anyone can help you take down Arcann, it’s him.”

_At what cost?_

She would rather spoon her own organs out with wooden cutlery than work with the monster that’d destroyed Ziost. “If you knew what I do about him, you’d run. The man killed millions. My homeworld,” she said softly.

He stared ahead stoutly. “He was always good for Zakuul.”

The comm beeped, salvaging the conversation from the depths of the murky awkwardness it was about to plummet into. “Reminder: the Gravestone remains under siege,” HK-55 said over the heavy thuds of artillery.

The Control Spar loomed ahead, landing pads extended like inescapable arms.

 

* * *

 

Senya reluctantly lunged forward and whipped her lightsaber around, dodging her daughter’s sloppy attack but not taking advantage of her unguarded side.

Pattik had relented to go help the crew against the onslaught of Skytroopers. He couldn’t fight properly until he was accustomed to his back’s limited mobility.

Vaylin hissed as Senya sliced through her cape. “Mother!”

“You’re free from your father’s control!” Senya shoved her back, pleading. “You don’t have to serve Arcann. You can end this mad war.”

For a moment Vaylin faltered, a glimpse of the little blonde child who wanted to eagerly please her mother flashing across her face.

_Please, Vaylin._

She tipped her head back and hooted with laughter. “We didn’t follow you when you left Father. Why would we listen to you now?” Vaylin shot forward and slammed a flurry of attacks at Senya, forcing her to back up with the sheer brutality.

None of Vaylin’s attacks did as much damage as her words.

 

* * *

 

The doors open to a hallway ominously strewn with Skytrooper remnants and a few Knights.

HK-55’s Meatbag path.

“The main override’s just ahead.” Koth didn’t move. “I… Whatever happens, I want you to know… it’s been an honor to fight alongside you.” He looked thoroughly uncomfortable as he gazed earnestly at her, a miniscule smile on his lips.

She grinned back, adjusting her bun to stay tight. “Careful, Koth. You’ll make me blush.”

The smile disappeared into grudging amusement and approval. “This is why I don’t give compliments. Let’s… find that droid.”

Together they picked their way over Skytroopers and Knights that wouldn’t be getting up anytime soon, or ever. They reached the door and on the other side-

HK-55 was in full rage mode. His visual sensors were glowing brilliantly and he drilled shots into a shrinking cluster of Skytroopers. He let loose what could only be considered a battle cry, reminiscent of two pieces of metal shrieking together.

The last Skytrooper dropped and the droid turned to them. “Judgement: Skytroopers annoy me.”

“Me too.” Fiika kicked a twitching one over the edge of the platform. A bridge let to cargo lifts overhead, and those… she craned her neck back. At the base of the Control Spar’s arm support was a small cargo bay and lift supports.

There weren’t any guardrails on the lifts.

“IZAK TAKE YOU!”

Fiika’s instincts took over and she whirled, daggers flashing before they were buried into the Knight’s exposed neck.

_Stars above._

She swallowed down her adrenaline and sheathed her knives.

Their comms crackled. “There’s a whole battalion of Zakuul Knights headed your way.” Lord Beniko sounded out of breath. “They went around our choke-point on shuttles.”

“They’re onto our plan.” Fiika cursed inwardly, specifically at Valkorian.

“We still can’t find Arcann on the security grid.” Lord Beniko sighed. “He’s vanished.”

“He might still be trapped in the Scion’s hideout.”

Koth shrugged. “Either way, we got the Knights. Me and HK can handle them. Whatever it takes, get the Gravestone flying.”

_An entire battalion?_

“Bravery in the face of certain death is only attractive when you survive. Promise me you’ll come back alive?”

I don’t need another death to blame Valkorian for. I don’t want to lose the one person with a sense of humor on the ship.

Koth raised an eyebrow, watching her climb onto the cargo lift. “It’s more romantic if I come back almost dead.”

“Support: I can inflict non-lethal wounds if it will aid in your courtship, Masters.”

“This is still an open line,” snapped Lord Beniko over static.

Koth raised his comm, eyes never looking away from Fiika. “We’ll get this done.” He cut the call and tucked the device away. “You do the same.”

The cargo lift lurched into the air as he threw the switch. He winked at her and turned around to prepare for the Knights.

“Koth’s military training was unorthodox, to say the least.” Lord Beniko’s voice came from the comm on her wrist. “These Knights don’t know how to defend against him and H-”

Fiika shut off the comm.

 

* * *

 

The room was empty.

Completely, utterly, and suspiciously empty.

Not even a toke guard of a pair of rusty Skytroopers.

Fiika stepped over the threshold and the door whisked shut behind her. She stepped down a small collection of stairs, four to be exact, and crossed the platform. Past the protective railings whispered the storm breezes, stirring up through the open floor with the scent of rain and ship exhaust. Thunder rumbled overhead.

She climbed another set of stairs studied the docking clamp controls.

A couple key clicks and they were disabled.

 

* * *

 

Len bit down on his scream as his shoulder erupted into flame. The Jedi Pattik was doing a damn good job fending off the Skytroopers, but stray shots still got through.

One of which had just hit Len.

“Docking clamps have been released,” SCORPIO announced over the ship’s speakers. “I will prepare the ship for launch.”

“Music to my ears,” Len roared, forgetting about the pain in his arm.

Tora’s voice shouted over the din. “EVERYBODY PILE IN! GO!”

 

* * *

 

Well.

It was almost anticlimactic. She’d made it up to the Control Spar, shut off the clamps, and now she should go return and help HK-55 and Koth-

“We have unfinished business!” A gold lightsaber carved through the access terminal.

Fiika spun and grabbed his cybernetic arm, shoving him away and wincing at the sparks that shot out of the joint.

Something was damaged. Good.

She turned and sprinted, leaping over the stairs in one bound to take up a defensive stance in the middle of the platform, daggers at the ready.

Arcann stared at his arm before fixating on her. “You… don’t _touch_ me!”

“Me in particular or…” She waved her daggers generally at him. “No one is invincible. Not even an Immortal Emperor or his son-.”

“YOU WILL PAY!” He force-leapt at her, landing with a thud that shook that the platform. His eye burned brightly like the smoldering coals in a fire, the fuel his fury and aimed at her.

She ducked under his swing and danced out of reach.

Agent training had taught her how to hold her own against a Jedi or Sith.

Arcann was neither of those. He could more than hold his ground, and getting in reach of his lightsaber promised the loss of something vital, like a leg or head.

She dodged the force-lightning he threw furiously at her. It was gold and dripped sparks, but something told Fiika it would bring an unholy amount of pain, followed by him advancing and her being in range of the lightsaber, and then the loss of a limb.

“PATHETIC!” he bellowed. Arcann whipped his arm around and a crate shot towards her.

In Fiika’s mental battle of crate vs. lightsaber, crate won. A bruise on her arm would be better than moving towards the lightsaber and losing the arm.

Except the crate did not hit her arm. The corner hit her where the bruise from the Skytrooper had formed, and Fiika dropped to her knees, screaming.

One rib was cracked. At least one.

“REQUEST: DIE, MEATBAG!” HK-55 vaulted over the stairs, firing repeatedly at Arcann as he advanced towards the Emperor.

Arcann casually blocked the blaster bolts as he turned towards Fiika.

 

* * *

 

The Knights were taken care of, the Gravestone free…

_What is taking them so long?_

Koth stared up at the Control Spar. He’d sent HK-55 up to make sure Fiika made it back to the cargo lifts, but now both seemed to have disappeared.

Something wasn’t right.

He headed towards the shuttle. It’d fit in the cargo hold. Mostly. If it was missing the top stabilizer.

 

* * *

 

A gold light grew around Arcann, electricity arcing off his cybernetic arm. He drew his arm back, the glow moving down his arm-

He was going to blast her to smithereens.

“MASTER ALLOS! SELF-SACRIFICE!” HK-55 dove across the platform and caught the force-lightning in the battery pack. The droid crumpled to the floor, smoking and visual sensors dimming until they were empty.

_No._

_No, not HK-55, the droid- the droid-_

Fiika’s hands found the railing and pulled her to her feet.

_HK-55…_

She stared at Arcann in disbelief.

“I can’t wait to meet all your friends,” he purred.

“BASTARD!” She abandoned the sliver of restraint left in her and curled her fingers around her daggers. She shot at him and dropped into a slide, his lightsaber missing her knives by mere inches. A flip on her belly, and she shot up behind him, one dagger introduced to his metal arm, the other-

_Bloody he-_

The blade slipped along the back of his mask, and before she could properly react, he elbowed her away and sent her sprawling backwards with a boot to the belly.

She wheezed as she tried to catch her breath.

His cybernetic arm had a waterfall of sparks spilling from it as it clutched his lightsaber.

Time stopped and Valkorian knelt beside her.

‘My son is too strong. You need my power. Only together can we strike him down.”

She climbed to her feet and spat at his ghostly feet. “You can’t tempt me. When Arcann’s done, you’re next.”

Time returned.

Lightning illuminated the room from the storm raging outside, thunder rolling through them like a wave.

Something creaked and the whole platform bucked.

Fiika stumbled forward. She found her balance, but- but- Something wasn’t right. Her bruised and cracked ribs felt numb, cold even. The fiery pain was gone. Breathing was hard, she couldn’t move enough air… She looked down and choked.

He’d stabbed her just below her battered ribs.

Logic told her that her lungs and liver had probably been damaged. Logic, however, had been overthrown by sheer shock.

Her legs were going to give out, panic filling her veins, she couldn’t breathe, no, no, she was going to fall and he’d done this to her.

Fiika slowly raised her head to stare at him in pain and outrage.

His eye stared back in horror, the color of a cloudless sky. Arcann deactivated his lightsaber.

If she fell, she wouldn’t get up.

Fiika reached for him, latching onto his tunic for support. She felt his arms encompass her, and he knelt as she crumpled, keeping her supported.

Her other hand grabbed ahold of the platform’s railing.

He was centered directly under the bar. “Fiika,” he whispered.

She gritted her teeth and threw all her weight into pushing him off the edge of the platform.

Arcann stared at her in pain as he fell through the clouds.

The edges of her vision were dark. She curled up in a ball and screamed in torment.

 

* * *

 

Hands, gentle hands, cupped her face and gently lifted her from the armpits. The person carried her away, minding her wounds.

Fiika stared at the passing lights overhead, dazed.

There was a reason she’d been in the Control Spar.

Oh right.

“Mission was…” She struggled for a deep breath. “A success. I released the…. Docking clamped before Arcann… found me.”

“I thought I was the one who was supposed be almost dead.” Koth sounded irritated and relieved and he gently set her down in the co-pilot’s seat of the shuttle.

Fiika stared dumbly at him. “You’re not even bloody scratched!”

And then they were soaring past turrets and Skytrooper dropships exploding next to them as the Gravestone’s hanger loomed ahead.

_How did we get here so fast?_

Fiika found herself in Koth’s arms again, he was running through the twisty corridors of the Gravestone, words were floating around incoherently in her mouth until they drooled out. She was deposited on a chair in the bridge and he went to take over from the new shiny droid with the pretty head armor.

The rest of the crew was gathered at the viewports, watching…

She craned her neck around Tora.

Senya and Vaylin, fighting.

 

* * *

 

She’d had enough. The Gravestone was free. The Skytroopers were retreating to the Fleet. Arcann’s pain had washed over her, followed by a regret so deep that it’d almost brought her to her knees.

Senya needed to end the fight.

Vaylin had different ideas. She tried to dig her nails into Senya’s neck and received a knee to the gut. She hissed as Senya’s lightsaber sliced her hilt in half and her lightsaber went spinning away in two pieces.

Slowly Senya lowered her lightsaber to Vaylin’s chin as her daughter knelt in defeat. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I liked you better when Father said you were dead.” Vaylin burst out in patronizing giggles as Senya faltered.

She couldn’t just kill her daughter.

No, not like this… She could be redeemed.

The Gravestone’s engines flared to life and the ship shifted as it started to leave.

Senya sheathed her lightsaber and took off in a dead sprint, gathering the Force about her. One more step- She pushed off and force-leapt across the retracting docking bridge and into the hangar. “I’m in- Let’s go,” she snapped into her comm.

She made her way to the bridge, sensing someone wounded badly.

But no one looked wounded. Lana was watching the Fleet ahead, lips pursed. The Lady of Sorrows was literally plugged into the navigation terminal. Vortena was behind the controls, Pattik sitting peacefully cross-legged in a corner, Fiika in the co-pilot seat.

“Lotta ships in that blockade,” a blue-haired woman said.

“I know,” growled Koth.

Lana gave a quick look at the screen in front of her. “The omnicannon isn’t ready, we can’t shoot our way out-“

“I know!”

The Lady of Sorrows chose that moment to state the obvious as the Gravestone shook. “Enemy ships opening fire.”

“I KNOW!” Koth visibly calmed himself down. “Hyperdrive locked in? Punch it!” The stars outside the viewport became streaks. “I was never worried.”

The crew dissolved into their own little conversations.

Senya pushed out her senses, trying to find the wounded one…

“Hey… you dying? Can I have your stuff?”

Her head snapped to the blue-haired woman and Fiika.

Fiika waved the other woman away, face bloodless and eyes glazed. “I’ve had other wounds that were a worse sort. It’s not as bad as it looks.”

Senya pushed her way over, flicked Fiika’s coat out of the way. She blanched. The girl had a hole in her side, thankfully not where anything too fatal like her spine or heart were, just below her ribs and, had it been three inches to the right, it would have been a graze.

The blue-haired woman retched at the sight. “You look like a hard-boiled flatcake dropped on a kitchen floor.”

Sweat slid down Fiika’s nose. She slowly fell over and Senya barely caught her before she crashed to the floor. “HELP US!”

Fiika needed help. Now.

 

* * *

 

_He paced closer, ignoring the nuisance of the droid._

_His cybernetic arm couldn’t stop twitching as he built up Force-lightning, just enough to stun her and he could get her to come to Zakuul._

_The droid yelled something, and it came soaring in the path of the bolt, catching it somewhere critical. It fell with a thud._

_“I can’t wait to meet all your friends,” he growled. And then regretted it. As irritated as he was… he didn’t genuinely want to harm her anymore. And the death of that droid clearly hurt her. Hadn’t he done enough?_

_Fiika stared at him in shock before hatred filled her eyes. “Bastard!” And she charged._

_Arcann snarled as she slipped past his lightsaber. He barked in pain as her dagger sliced through the electrical wiring of his arm. He whirled and kicked her away in reflex._

_She stared up at him._

_He could sense Father gather about her for a mere second before disappearing again._

_Fiika climbed to her feet as lightning flashed. Thunder bucked the platform, and she stumbled forward._

_His cybernetic arm spasmed. And his lightsaber impaled her._

_No._

_No, no, no, what had he done?_

_She stared up at him in shock._

_Like Thex-_

_She reached for him, her hands open and fingers grasping at his tunic. Fiika needed him, his assisstance._

_Of course he would do anything to help her. He’d just- He’d… Arcann tried to block the overflowing guilt and regret._

_Fiika leaned in closer, wheezing._

_And then he found himself falling over the edge of the platform._

_He deserved it._

Arcann tore his mind from his thoughts. He needed to focus. Get to a med-bay, have his arm removed before it did any more damage, get his mask repaired. The crack through the lens gave everything a distinctly lopsided appearance that was grating on his nerves.

The Skytrooper dropship landed softly and he gestured for Vaylin to join him.

She threw herself in and didn’t bother to grab a handhold to steady herself. “Ah, not dead, then? Your outlander crush escaped.”

Arcann kept his anger showing. Any other emotion, like the near-overwhelming regret, couldn’t be shown to her. He would never hear the end of it. “An unexpected setback, but I learned much today. Father’s power has changed. It’s weaker. And Fiika will not accept his help.”

Vaylin snorted, swaying as the shuttle left the atmosphere. “Mother let me live.” She studied her nails. “I’m going to kill her.”

Guilt swirled around in his chest and he locked his jaw, pushing it down to be released later during sparring practice.

 

* * *

 

An ugly blue light floated overhead.

_Why do med-bay have such foul lights? Why can’t they be warm and happy?_

Fiika slowly propped herself up on her elbows.

“Easy, easy,” Lord Beniko said softly.

Fiika’s stomach did not want to take it easy. She leaned over the edge of the cot and vomited up bile into an awaiting bucket. She was handed a damp washcloth to wipe her mouth, except her hands were shaking so bad that Lord Beniko had to do it for her.

“Your body went through quite the ordeal.” The Sith sat down on the foot of the cot, absentmindedly patting Fiika’s foot with her half-cybernetic hand. “We weren’t sure you’d ever wake up.”

“Don’t tell me it’s been another five years,” Fiika rasped.

The humor earned her a small smile. “Two days, give or take. I’d offer you water, but…” Lord Beniko gestured at the bucket. “You up for moving?” She gestured to a hoverchair in the corner. “Something important has come up, and we have some questions for you.”

Fiika nodded and let Lord Beniko help her into the hoverchair, blanket wrapped around her legs and the IV drip hanging above her on a medical probe. She was pushed into the lounge.

Koth, Senya, Master Pattik, Len, even SCORPIO were all sitting around with an air of healthy mistrust. They all nodded their greetings to her, Koth’s eyes lingering longer and with more concern.

“What happened while I was out?” She shifted self-consciously with so many eyes on her.

“The Gravestone is safe, but I lost some crew back on Asylum,” Koth said quietly. He cleared his throat. “If Senya and Pattik hadn’t saved the day, it would’ve been a whole lot worse.  Len can’t stop thanking her-”

“Thank you again Miss Senya,” Len interrupted with a grin.

Koth shot him a half-assed glare. “It’s gotten embarrassing. I still don’t trust you, Senya, but you were there when it mattered.”

She settled back smugly into the couch cushions. “I always will be.”

Lord Beniko moved to sit in Fiika’s sight range. “We did suffer another loss. I assume you were present when HK…”

_Oh. Right._

Fiika nodded slowly, eyes prickling. “Arcann destroyed his body. Completely. But if his personality matrix was copied to a memory core…” she trailed off hopefully.

“It wasn’t.” Lord Beniko sniffled. “He always said he didn’t want to live forever.”

“The HK unit was an inferior design. It was always destined to becomes scrap.” SCORPIO seemed oblivious to the glares turned upon her.

“I will deactivate you,” Lord Beniko sputtered murderously.

Senya silenced Lord Beniko with a wave of her hand. “Lana said this all started when Heskal summoned you.”

Fiika nodded. “He’s dead. He’s the one who brought Arcann to Asylum. Said it was destiny.”

“And the other Scions?”

She shrugged. “They claim they’re still on our side. They’ll find us when the time is right.”

Lord Beniko rolled her eyes.

Master Pattik smiled faintly. “With allies like them, we need not search too far for enemies.”

“If we’re done depressing each other, how about telling her the good news?” Koth nodded to Lord Beniko.

The Sith sighed, a faint smile appearing. “The Battle of Asylum showed the galaxy Zakuul isn’t invincible. My contacts in the Core Worlds have thrown their support behind us, behind Pattik. He’s about to become the leader of an alliance dedicated to bringing down the Eternal Throne once and for all. Everyone’s waiting on a planet called Odessen.”

Pattik shrugged as Fiika turned her gaze upon him. “I am the only one to have bested Arcann once. We all have faith that together, we can do it again.”

“If you’re up for it, we should go say hello,” Lord Beniko said.

Fiika smiled. It was started to feel like old times. “Let’s not keep them waiting.”

Koth groaned melodramatically. “Here we go again.”


	10. Together Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arcann tries to force himself to consider Fiika a weakness unworthy of his time, Fiika deals with managing the construction of the Alliance base and whatever it is she and Koth have, Senya bottles up her emotions towards her son, and Theron and Lana reunite... awkwardly.

_Pewter eyes flashed. Gold hair reflected his lightsaber, sharp shapes cast on her face. She reached for him, her hands shaking, her hands needing him, she needed him, and-_

_Arcann slowly looked down._

_He’d killed her._

_No, no, no, she wasn’t-_

_She couldn’t-_

_He hadn’t sensed her death, but-_

_Fiika turned to ash in his arms._

Arcann bolted upright in his bed, heartbeat deafening, skin freezing as the sweat dried, his shoulder screaming in pain where the cybernetics started.

The shadows crawled over the corners of his room.

He forced his breathing to slow.

It was Fiika. She made him this… this… haunted person. She made him question himself. She made him weaker and- and-

If he hadn’t shown mercy earlier-

Arcann slid out of his bed and paced his room.

_She is my weakness._

He passed his wardrobe.

_She is my weakness._

He strode past his private desk.

_She is my weakness._

Arcann stopped and stared at the mask across from him.

_And I will defeat my weaknesses._

_I am stronger than them._

 

* * *

 

Lana hadn’t exactly told him what to expect when they reached Odessen.

Pattik wasn’t fazed. If Lana knew, she’d tell him, or send Fiika to do it.

And Fiika…

He worried about her. First the carbonite freezing, then the poisoning from it, now she’d been stabbed by Arcann himself…

The girl didn’t look like she could take much more.

He’d seen her broken like this before, but that was emotional. That was Ziost; and they all had been wrecked, especially her.

She was still raw over those wounds. And now these physical ones…

His back twinged.

Pattik slowly straightened his new spine, wincing at the little pinpricks of pain against his skin. It was a blessing and a curse. He was alive, yet… yet he would have to find a new form to fight in, if he wanted to keep his artificial spine where it ought to be.

It didn’t feel any different from before the fight in the marsh.

Just the occasional flickers of pain or itches.

Some mornings he woke up and forgot about the spine until he went to stretch.

“Master Pattik?”

He cracked open an eye and smiled at Fiika. “Yes?” Pattik didn’t challenge the title. She respected him, she could call him that even if she wasn’t a Jedi or with the Republic. She used it because she looked up to him, not mockingly like other Imperials.

She was stiff and in her ratted Imperial Uniform. “We’ve arrived, and are ready to leave whenever you are.” With a quick spin, she marched away with a well-trained gait.

He took a deep breath and stood. It was time to face the crew and whoever else was waiting on Odessen for them.

 

* * *

 

Pattik didn’t consider himself exceptionally observant.

It was his Padawan, Ryun, who had seen every little detail and put them all the pieces together to know everything. It was a puzzle, the boy had said, when Pattik had asked him to explain how he knew that another Padawan had lied for another over a test.

Ryun had been barely eleven. He’d launched into an explanation on how one Padawan now seemed to owe another favors, and both padawans were being watched by all the masters at the Temple. But Pattik hadn’t been back at the Temple long enough to know the rumors, Ryun had continued. That was why Pattik didn’t know what Ryun was talking about and that he wasn’t aware of the cheating.

And Pattik had gaped at the youngling. How had he seen all that and put it together?

Now, decades later, Pattik understood how his Padawan put it all together.

Lana was standing by the shuttle ramp, chewing on a nail and shoulders hunched. She was eyeing her half-cybernetic hand apprehensively.

She was unsure of how it would be perceived by old friends.

It was surprisingly endearing, to know that a Sith could feel such sensitive emotions.

Senya saw him and walked over. “Master Jedi.”

He nodded back. Senya was… he wasn’t particularly sure what he felt towards her. She’d lied and kept her relation to Arcann and Vaylin a secret, endangered Fiika… yet if it wasn’t for her, Pattik would be decomposing face-down in the Zakuulan swamp.

So he remained open-minded towards her.

Senya herself didn’t seem to be wanting a friendship with him, either.

They stared down at the planet floating in space.

_Such humble beginnings-_

“Odessen, huh?”

Pattik slowly turned to look at Koth. “Hm?”

“Could it be there’s really a place where no one wants to kill us?”

“I hand picked it myself,” Lana snapped. She stalked over, pulling on her glove to hide her cybernetics. “It was the best choice.”

Pattik remained silent, studying the planet below. The Force… it was pulling to him. Quiet, calm. It wasn’t like Tython, with a crescendo of soft currents, and it wasn’t Dark. It… was just there. Existing. Neutral.

He opened himself to it and sighed. Even if it wasn’t Tython… a planet this strong felt like home again. If he strained his senses… he picked up forests covering the mountains and valleys, ravines carved by rivers… A peaceful world untouched by civilization.

“…wise to leave SCORPIO in control of the bridge?” Senya asked.

Pattik pulled himself back into the conversation.

Koth shrugged. “Got the ship locked down. She can’t go anywhere without my approval.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Lana stepped between Senya and Koth before they started up again. “Can you two please not?”

Pattik stepped up to get their minds off the cabin-fever they all had. “So why this world?”

“Remote, unsettled… and strong in the Force,” Lana rattled off, still giving Koth a glare to keep him from bothering Senya. “But unlike Tython or Korriban, it’s altogether balanced.”

“How did you find it?”

“I’ve always had a strong affinity with the Force. It’s what’s set me on this path to begin with, led me to forge a certain alliance all those years ago.”

It didn’t feel like years. Perhaps, two, at most thanks to the carbonite freezing. He nodded at her. “I believe the Force guided us  together.” Pattik looked around at everyone. “All of us.”

Koth’s comm beeped, ruining the moment. “Time to go. Let’s load up and go meet everyone.”

 

* * *

 

Fiika sat silently in the corner of the shuttle.

There was only one pilot seat, and Koth had taken it before her.

Lord Beniko sat beside her, the picture-perfect definition of composed, if it wasn’t for her constantly adjusting her glove.

“My Lord?”

“Hmm?”

“Did the Force really drive you to form the team with Master Pattik?”

Lord Beniko paused. “No, that wasn’t the alliance I was referring to. With Pat, that was planned between me and Agent Shan. I meant our partnership.”

Fiika blinked. “You never told me that.”

“It wasn’t relevant. I could feel the Force guiding me to that pirate ship, where I found you in the cells- Koth, mind the atmosphe-”

The shuttle bucked as they cleared the upper atmosphere.

“You want to come fly it?” Koth shot over his shoulder.

Fiika prickled out of habit at his casual words to Lord Beniko. She would have to get accustomed to people not holding the Sith in high regard, especially if they weren’t Imperial.

The viewport showed a small collection of ships parked on a plateau.

She pulled her coat tighter around her to ward off any chills. The… the… what Arcann had done to her, it’d messed with her healing from the carbonite poisoning. It was likely she’d still have cold flashes.

Koth eased the ship down with expert skill. “Welcome to Odessen.”

Fiika hung back as everyone filed off. “That was a particularly impressive landing. I was expecting something like in the swamp.”

“Weren’t you the one flying it when it crashed?” He didn’t look at her in the face. His voice was tight, shoulders stiff… something was bothering him and he was failing miserably at masking it with humor. “C’mon, let’s go.”

“Koth, are you aright?”

“Peachy.” He stomped down the ramp and left her behind.

 

* * *

 

Pattik became acutely aware that everyone was staring at him.

There were Sith, Jedi, Naval and Army forces from the Republic and Empire alike, some spacers, bounty hunters… Twi-Leks, Human, Chiss, Sith, Miraluka, Kiffar… the list went on. Everyone from every kind of life in the galaxy was here.

And they were all staring at him.

Perhaps this was how Koth had felt back on the ship.

Pattik swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded to the crowd.

“Well…” Lana looked like she didn’t know what to do with the expectant crowd either. “Here we are. This is your new alliance.”

She was not putting him in charge of the whole thing. “It’s not my alliance,” he said graciously. “We’re all in this together.”

“That may well be, but they need someone to rally behind. Someone to motivate them. Someone, the only one, who’s faced Arcann head-on, wounded him, and survived.” Lana was giving him a significant look.

He tried to smile. It felt more like a grimace.

The cost of that battle had been too high. Korriban, sand thrown everywhere, no Force for him to call on that wasn’t tainted with the Sith. Ryun and the other Jedi all converging on Prince Arcann.

The man had barely broken a sweat, eyes flat and hard.

Pattik had been running to help Ryun when a gold lightsaber had sliced him in half.

And nothing had mattered. He’d leapt forward, over his apprentice’s body, and sent a flurry of attacks at Prince Arcann, enough power to send him back a step.

Arcann had paused.

Pattik had realized his mistake. He was not going to win against the Zakuulan Prince. Something… anything… if he got the chance to run, he was going to take it. It was not his time to die; the Force wasn’t calling to him.

Arcann advanced, on the offensive.

His defenses wouldn’t last long. He was the offensive fighter, the best defense an even stronger offense. Ryun, Lana, Fiika, Theron… they’d been the defense to his attacks, watching his back.

Now he would pay dearly for that.

Pattik sloshed through the sand, lungs heavy, mind dulling. Not even the adrenaline in his blood could make an escape route appear. He tried to maneuver around a statue; anything for time.

Arcann didn’t let him.

And then a missile struck the statue.

Shattered rock and flaming shrapnel hit Arcann in the face.

Pattik took his chance and shoved past him, lightsaber separating the Prince’s arm from the rest of him.

Arcann’s roar of pain had silenced the war nearby. Sand rose from the ground, devoid of gravity’s pull. His eyes were burning with hatred. Blood from his shrapnel wounds slicked his armor. The Force built up around him-

Pattik didn’t wait to see what would happen.

He spun and ran.

Halfway to the Jedi shuttle and he could still feel Arcann’s scream echoing in his ears.

And Ryun’s loss heavy in his heart.

“Master Pattik.”

He shook himself out of the haunting memory. Fiika was staring up at him, eyebrows knitted together with concern. “Yes?”

“Alright?”

“Yes.” It was a half-lie. He was alright, if he didn’t think of the past. He looked around the crowd. They’d fallen back into their divided cliques. Someone, him, would have to get them together. Pattik stepped forward. “I’d like everyone’s attention.”

Nearby curious faces turned to him, but not any past the first couple of yards had heard him.

Pattik leapt up to stand on the hull of the shuttle. “Everyone’s attention!”

That did it.

Every face was turned up at him.

He took a deep breath and started with the truth. “The galaxy as we know it is gone. The institutions we know have fallen.”

Below, a few eyes rolled and strained faces nodded.

Now for the optimism, the hope. Something that wouldn’t keep the grim look on their faces. Something… Fiika. She’d faced hardships and loss beyond what he could fathom, yet here she was, in something she believed in. Lana, kicked out of Sith Intelligence and still forging a path for herself. Koth, standing tall for his morals and unyielding in them. Senya, trying to make up for her past actions and save her people.

How did he put that sense of purpose and unity into words to persuade and inspire everyone?

Pattik cleared his throat. “But we can’t let that be a source of panic or defeat. We have this opportunity to build something together. An Alliance each of us can be vested in. We don’t all share the same ideologies,” he added, holding his arms open in a gesture of goodwill. “But every one of you is here because you believe we can transcend our differences. I believe it too. Either we succeed together,  or fail alone.”

He stepped forward and leapt down from the shuttle, throwing the Force into his voice to make it carry.

“Let’s not fail.”

 

* * *

 

“Have you moved since I left last night?”

Fiika held up her caf mug. “How else did I get this?”

Master Pattik looked faintly amused as he took a seat beside her. “How’s it going?”

It wasn’t. The blaster drills had arrived pre-owned and without repairs they needed, so Tora had tried to fix them on her own.

Tora was now nursing several sprained fingers and a nasty burn.

The orders for the durasteel  I-beams hadn’t gone out when they should’ve, the observation towers were going to be a month late…

And the smugglers were ‘borrowing’ things that weren’t being returned.

She groaned and ran her hands through her hair. “I bloody hate this, you know. Organizing this base being built is awful, and since I’m the only approachable one of you leaders, guess who gets all the holo-messages? You’re the face of the Alliance, Lord Beniko… well, no one with any sense of self-preservation would approach her without warning, Senya is regarded as the enemy, and Koth… I haven’t seen Koth in a week. I think he went to go buy a jukebox for the cantina. And we’re apparently not having a bloody mess hall, it’s a cantina!”

“Fiika-“

“Yes, I know I’m ranting, and it feels lovely.”

Pattik smiled at her for the first time in weeks. “I know everything has changed with us left behind in time, but please don’t let your sass leave.” He glanced at the datapad. “Is it as bad a Rishii?”

She glowered at him. “At least I got a fun disguise with that.” Fiika gestured to her new Imperial uniform. “But I’m not complaining with the updates that’ve come over the years we missed. The collar’s not as high. And apparently I was posthumously made an actual Intelligence Officer.”

A Kiffar girl knock on the tent pole. “Allos?”

“Yes?” Fiika inwardly groaned at the girl’s worried look. “What now?”

“We’ve lost the crate of extra batteries for the soldering droids.”

“Bloody hell.” She pointed at Pattik. “Don’t you laugh, Master, or we’ll be using that lightsaber of yours.” Fiika stomped after the Kiffar. “They ought to be in with the new shipment, I moved them to keep sticky hands from helping themselves-“ Someone tapped her shoulder. “What?!”

Senya stepped back.

The girl, knowing her answer, ran away.

Fiika took a slow breath. “Hi. What do you need?”

“I need nothing. It’s you who needs something.”

_I don’t need this right now._

“And what do I need?”

Senya raised an eyebrow. “You need to unwind and release your stress. And something physical to help get you back into shape after my son wounded you.”

“I’m busy.”

“I’m certain the whole base won’t fall over if you spend a couple hours every week sparring.” Senya tilted her head, faint smile appearing. “Perhaps I’ll show you how to properly wield a pike. You should know how use a weapon if you pick it up.”

Stars, was the offer tempting.

And to just spar, sweat, nothing on her mind… And it would do her good to get started on some form of exercise. Her stab wound wasn’t completely healed, and her chills still came every once in awhile. Sitting at a collapsible table and organizing construction was taking a toll on her. She needed her skills sharper than her daggers.

“Deal. Meet you at the clearing across the bridge in an hour. And- WHERE THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE TAKING THAT BATTERY!” Fiika broke into a sprint.

The Kiffar girl was a smuggler.

 

* * *

 

Vaylin skipped down the hallway to the lift to the Throne room.

Arcann had been hiding away in his rooms for the past week; since they’d annihilated Asylum. Moping, most likely, after losing his little pathetic crush again.

_If he lost her again… maybe it’s a sign that the Gods don’t want that floozy with him._

She smiled to herself as the lift swooshed open.

Vaylin hummed as the lift shot up silently.

She could sense her brother up in top of the Spire, probably pacing dramatically and looking torn. He was the Emperor, he needed to get his head out of his heart and focus on smashing those who dared insult them by attacking. Not…

The doors opened.

Arcann was indeed pacing around his throne.

Vaylin sighed loudly and it echoed around the chamber. “Brother. You’re moping still?”

His head shot up.

Oh, no, he wasn’t moping. Fury was twinkling in his eye.

“Ooooh, you’re planning something. What is it? Tell me.” She knew better than to try and sit on the Throne so she leaned against the armrest. “Are you going to hunt down that harlot you’re infatuated with?”

No reaction from him.

Vaylin poked him. “Arcann, stop ignoring me.”

“We’re going to continue as if nothing happened.” He spun on a heel and paced past her. “If we act as though we’re worried, Zakuul will worry. The people need to see that nothing can faze us.”

Vaylin curled her lip. “But those outlanders escaped us. It’s an insult.”

“And we will find them.”

“They can defeat the Fleet with the Gravestone!”

Arcann slowed. “They’re wounded, outnumbered. Do you think they’d dare to attack with a damaged ship?”

She wouldn’t put it past them. They’d been brazen enough to break into the Spire and then come back to Zakuul with Mother. But then Mother always ran when things didn’t go her way.  She shrugged grudgingly, seeing his point. “Not now.”

“We bide our time and act like nothing’s wrong. The weekly gala is still scheduled. We both will make an appearance.”

Vaylin frowned. “And Fiika? Your…” What was a properly stupid word of endearment? “Your darling?”

“She is a weakness I will end.”

 

* * *

 

“Thanks Tora.”

“Yeah, yeah, just warn me next time that these things are kriffed up.”

Fiika smiled as the shuttle soared away.

The last lookout tower and turret combo had been delivered and set in place.

Finally.

Fiika glanced around, found the observation platform empty, and did a little celebratory dance at the finished construction.

Well, mostly finished. Anything inside the base was still being put together, but the important framework was done. Her job of coordinating was done. It was all done.

An engine rumbled as a small private ship approached.

Fiika squinted, unable to see the pilot through the glare on the viewport.

_Who’s coming today?_

The ship was Republic, small, sleek… But none of the tell-tale paint jobs of the Jedi ships. A military official? Diplomat?

She headed towards the catwalk to the landing pad as the ship’s ramp lowered.

A pair of black boots appeared.

And then dusty pants, a familiar red jacket, and-

She broke into a sprint only to skid to a stop at the edge of the landing pad.

Five years. He’d thought she was dead for five years. What would he be like, and what  would he be expecting?

Theron stared hard at her. He approached slowly. “Name’s Theron Shan. Used to be with the Republic Strategic Information Service. You are?” His eyes glazed over as he mentally scanned files with his implant.

Fiika crossed her arms and forced a cool smile. “This is just proof that I have the superior training.”

That did it.

Theron’s act cracked and he burst out in laughter. “Spook, you’ll never give me peace over that.” He pulled her into a tight hug. “But you believed I didn’t remember you, even for a moment.”

“Alright, alright, you did get me for a bit.” She poked him. “But only because it’s been five years for you.”

“And…” The grin disappeared off his face. “How many for you? Wasn’t sure, based on what Lana said you went through-“ he cleared his throat. “Going through,” he corrected himself. “It’s been a long five years…” His implant lights flickered for a moment.

Fiika nodded. “It feels like everything’s changed. Why don’t you get me up to speed with what’s happened to you?”

“I will…” A wry smile slowly crawled across his face. “But before we dig into the big stuff, I’ve got some things for you.” He pulled her up into the ship.

“What’s-“ Fiika fell silent as he opened the cargo hold. “You… Why in the bloody hell did you save my disguises?”

“Not just your disguises. Everything you had on Rishi, Yavin... Dromund Kaas. It got packed up and put in storage every time we moved, and you were supposed to get it back, but… We thought you died.” Theron’s voice was quiet. “I never got around to signing it away for disposal. Lana didn’t want it, so she sent it all to me.”

“You mean…” Fiika opened a trunk and bit back tears. “Everything. Everything is here?”

“Yeah.”

She held up an outdated holoprojector and flicked it on. Images distorted with the curve of the hold flickered to life, little snippets of her past life playing across the durasteel. There was Mum and Luuko, dressed in their wedding outfits with a toddler Fiika between them, Uncle Garo and the cousins covered in baking ingredients with an disaster of kitchen behind them, a birthday cake for Fiika in the middle of the table. One of the family flutterplumes, Granny and her knobby fingers playfully wagging at whoever was taking the holovid, Mum playing the synthharp and Luuko staring at her like he’d just fallen in love all over again…

Theron laid a hand on her shoulder. “I can give you some time.”

She switched off the projector. “No, I- I’m quite alright.” Fiika dug deeper into the crate and let out a raw laugh. “You really did mean everything.” She pulled out a ragged blanket that had seen better years. It was so worn and faded that it was practically see-through, and could in no way, shape, or form keep anyone warm. “Someone had to pack up my baby blanket?”

“You still have yours?”

Fiika carefully folded it up and placed it back into the crate. “Naturally.” She stood and gestured to the bins. “Thank you for saving it all. I’ll get someone to help me take it all to my quarters. I’m still not supposed to be doing heavy lifting until I’m completely healed.”

They headed off the ship.

“I thought Lana said you were treated for carbonite poisoning.”

“No, Arcann’s wound.”

“What wound?”

She stopped and stared at him. “When was the last time you spoke to Lord Beniko?”

Theron didn’t meet her eyes; instead he became acutely interested in watching the trees. “In person? Four years ago. Through coded messages? A couple months. She sent me one when you arrived on Asylum and Pattik’s spine was in bad shape.”

“Bloody hell,” Fiika scoffed. “I was stabbed by Arcann on Asylum during-“

“WHAT?!”

“I was skewered. Poked with a lightsaber. Pricked. Um… I’m sure there’s other words...“

Theron was staring up at the sky. “She doesn’t tell me anything. Why doesn’t she tell me anything?”

Fiika decided to keep the fact that Lord Beniko’s right hand was half-cybernetic to herself. “You’ll have to bring that up with her. She’s overseeing Koth docking the Gravestone right now.” She made a face. “More like keeping him from crashing it, that is.”

“Ah, he’s the one who keeps taking the pilot seat from you. Poor little Spook, left to sit like a normal passen- Hey!” Theron protested as she mussed his hair. “You know how long that takes!”

“I am perfectly fine with someone else in the pilot seat.”

It was Theron’s turn to make a face.

“Oh, shut it.” She elbowed him. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Uh-huh.”

Fiika ran a hand down her face. “The two of you will get on brilliantly. I regret it already.”

From the ravine came the echoes of deafening scrapping.

“I don’t think I’ll distract Lana right now,” Theron said, wincing. “Sounds like Koth needs all the help he can get.” He tapped one of his implant’s buttons. “When you have a moment, it’s time for all that official stuff. I’ll be inside.” He tossed her the starship’s access card.

 

* * *

 

The hologram flickered as Bey’wan toggled it to zoom out from the exposed turrets.

Theron rubbed his forehead. Arcann’s… whatever they were, since no one could decide on a name, were practically impenetrable.

Fiika looked like she was still thinking over the first plan, to send a tiny dropship with two people.

That idea had been shot down as fast as the ship would have been.

The other ideas…. Well, more like half-hearted suggestions, weren’t worth their time to even consider.

He glanced at the caf machine and told himself no. He’d managed to get off it for the past two years, he was not falling back into surviving off caf. At least, not yet.

“What about a naval squadron to distract the station and then we send in the two-man pod?” Fiika pointed at an exhaust port. “And-“

“A squadron run like that will fail without detailed schematics. We need hangar positions, defense  capabilities… It would also help if we understood the powercore…” Bey’wan gave Dr. Oggurobb a significant look.

Fiika went back to frowning over the plan.

The Hutt doctor looked personally offended. “I cannot divine such information or pray to the gods of  science!” he pointed at Bey’wan. “All I can do is speculate. Unless…” He turned to Hylo. “That is, we could extract information in secret.”

Theron was losing his patience.

“That’s what I’m bloody well trying to say,” Fiika hissed under her breath.

Hylo raised an eyebrow at her. “Don’t look at me. I’ve snuck into some crazy places, but stations like these are another deal altogether.”

“I’d be willing.” Fiika gave her a sharp look. “You pilot the pod, Aygo’s squad gives us cover-“

“I’m not going in that thing,” Hyl interrupted.

“You’d be piloting. I’d go in.”

Theron flicked off the hologram to get them to shut up. “You’re not going in alone.” He almost called her Spook, but caught himself. She’d shed the nickname, saying it reminded her of her family. He turned to the rest of them. “We’ll table it for now… We have company.”

Master Pattik nodded from the entrance to the war room. “Need some help?”

“We will… as soon as we understand Arcann’s battle stations.” Theron gestured for the Jedi to join them. “We’re building a healthy alliance, but it’s not enough. The Core Worlds are still under the threat from Arcann’s considerable reach. I’ve assembled a team of specialists to help tackle the big questions and find potential recruits.”

_One of you start talking. I’ll ramble._

Doctor Oggurobb surged forward. “Doctor Juvard Illip Oggurobb. I’m no biologist, but I admit I’m fascinated by the cybernetics along your spine.” He glanced over at Fiika. “And the effects of long-term carbonite poisoning on mental facilities.”

She didn’t respond.

Master Pattik nodded politely to Doctor Oggurobb.

“Bey’wan Aygo. Former Fleet Admiral in the Republic Navy.” The Bothan reached across the table to shake Master Pattik’s hand. “Discharged, but still in this fight.”

Hylo leaned forward. “Sure you’ve heard of me. Broke the toughest blockade in galactic history. Republic’s greatest outlaw hero, basically.”

Master Pattik frowned. “And your name?”

She snorted. “Hylo Visz.”

“Never heard of you.”

She looked slightly deflated as he moved on.

“You know me,” Fiika said. “Infiltration and deception specialist.”

The last specialist stepped out of the shadows. “Your visage surfaced in my trials. I am the mystic Sana-Rae.” She pursed her lips, blue eyes staring hard at him. “I will assist you.”

Master Pattik smiled politely. “Hello, all of you.” He faced Theron. “Exactly what problems are you looking to solve?”

“Exactly all of them,” answered Fiika.

Theron waved his hand to shush her. “Logistics, Intelligence, military, technology… Don’t get me started on the Force.” He sighed and rubbed his forehead again. A headache was forming, and it was not from the tantalizing smell of caf brewing. He didn’t need.

Definitely didn’t need it.

“If I may be so bold, I would ask a favor of you.”

Theron glanced up at Doctor Oggurobb. The Hutt was earnestly facing Master Pattik.

“I have my trained eye on a promising new recruit. A Gand, of all creatures. If you’d like to go over the details, you may find me in my splendid new laboratory.”

To Master Pattik’s credit, he didn’t look overwhelmed.

_How does Doctor O have time to research recruits on top of everything else?_

Theron butted in before any more bold suggestions were made. “So that’s the team. Any questions?”

Master Pattik shook his head, as if he could sense Theron’s waning patience. “I won’t take up any more of your time. I look forward to working with all of you.”

Sana-Rae watched him go. “A pleasure to meet in person.”

Bey’wan flicked the hologram back on. “So, let’s move on to gathering Fleet ships…”

 

* * *

 

Arcann hated the weekly galas.

He hated the socialites who fawned over trivial matters, hated the obnoxious music, the flashing lights, the food with so many spices that cancelled each other out that it was practically tasteless.

Well, he’d used to hate the food.

His mask saved him the trouble of trying to ingest anything served at the party. Or get intoxicated.

He prowled around the upper balcony, looking down at the dance floor over the beast pens.

Vaylin was… somewhere. He wasn’t concerned; she could take care of herself.

He’d already gone and made a show of walking around and nodding at people. Now he roamed the quiet areas, alone and thinking.

Thinking about things he told himself he wouldn’t think about anymore. But she kept surfacing on his mind no matter how many times he pushed her under other thoughts. Fiika… he’d nearly killed her.

What had kept him from doing it? Why had he felt so… horrified when he’d stabbed her? She wasn’t Th- She wasn’t his brother. She wasn’t important. Just an outlander spy who had nothing of importance about her. She was a nobody.

Obviously he didn’t, _couldn’t_ care for her.

She made him look like a fool. He didn’t need her kindness or… or anything from her.

He felt nothing for her but contempt.

Arcann leaned over the railing and watched the people twirl below, laughing and drunk and flirting. It was so…

Boring. They’d fall in love, make little babies, and then the babies would grow up to become the vain and spoiled socialites their parents were. Important people in society, yes, but not one of them would understand anything about something remotely important.

He tapped his fingers on the railing.

His people looked happy. That was the important part. If they were happy, they wouldn’t question him, wouldn’t think about the war, or pay attention to whatever Fiika and her friends-

No, he was not going to think about her.

Arcann took a deep breath to cool his temper.

His people wouldn’t pay attention to whatever the Jedi Pattik and his friends could do. And one of those friends was Fiika-

_Stop it._

Perhaps he ought to leave. Vaylin would be upset that she’d be left alone with the socialites, but he knew she loved being the most powerful person in the room. Maybe he could even get a couple socialistes to ask her to dance.

He smiled to himself. The last time Vaylin had danced, her partner hadn’t returned to the galas for weeks. He and Thex-

They’d kept an eye out for the poor man.

“Emperor,” a voice purred from the doorway.

The eyes of Esne, he’d been so preoccupied with his thoughts that he hadn’t heard anyone approach. It wasn’t Vaylin, nor a Knight. Some socialite, come to try and seek his hand in marriage. It had been funny the first time, long ago, until Arcann had realized that the awkward proposal was serious. And that his brother had set him up.

He didn’t turn to greet the person who spoke. “Hello.”

“I’m going to join you.”

She didn’t ask permission. Irritation flared in his chest. He was Emperor, no one simply decided anything with him around. But… it was also… he couldn’t put a word on it…

Intrigued.

Who would be so brazen as to just do such a thing without his permission?

The woman leaned against the railing, just barely close enough for him to consider her inside his personal space.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw blonde hair spilling over her shoulder in a braid.

_Fiika-_

_No, it isn’t her._

It couldn’t be her.

Arcann turned to face the socialite.

Blonde hair, dark eyes, a nose that’d had surgery to look as delicate as it did; there were tiny little scars along the nostrils. Freckles punctuated her cheeks. And she was tall.

“Hello,” she breathed.

No accent like Fiika’s-

_Stop thinking about her._

Arcann stared at her. “Why are you here?”

“You looked lonely.” She smiled softly. “And I can only take so much of the music.” The socialite shifted closer under the pretense of adjusting her shawl. “Why are you up here?”

_I want to be alone._

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. He was the Emperor and could do as he pleased. And he could call her out on the lie he sensed.

She was still looking at him, waiting for an answer.

“I will not ask again. Why are you here?”

Her soft smile melted into a seductive one. “Like I said. You looked lonely, and I’m offering my company.” She tilted her head to look at him through her lashes. “In whatever capacity you want me.” Her fingers met his on the railing. “Or need me.”

“Kneel.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Here?”

“No one will dare disturb me.”

The socialite knelt, staring up at him with huge eyes. “What next, Emperor?”

Arcann studied her. If he didn’t look at her directly, she could pass as Fiika. It was a tempting offer; and to pretend it was her... No. He wouldn’t. “You will not speak of this to anyone.”

“Of course.”

“And you will do exactly as I command.” Arcann clasped his hands together behind his back.

“Of course.”

He smiled, knowing she couldn’t see it under the mask. “Now go. I have no need for a harlot.”

The socialite gaped at him before stumbling to her feet, completely abandoning her composure and shawl askew. “What?”

“I have no want for easy entertainment. Go offer yourself elsewhere.”

Arcann turned away and listened to her leave.

Vaylin was below, on the dance floor, standing in the middle of it and staring up at him. And she was grinning.

She’d sent the socialite.

He pushed away from the balcony and headed towards his personal ship, making a few detours to encourage potential dance partners for his dear sister.

 

* * *

 

“Lana.”

She looked up to see Theron in the hallway. “Hello.”

Neither of them moved.

_You’ve still got that foul jacket, have you?_

“So. It’s been a while.” He stayed where he was. “Been busy?”

“Yes.” There were things she’d done in the past five years… things that weren’t coming to mind, or weren’t worth sharing. “You?”

Theron shrugged. “Spent almost year with the SIS before I got dismissed. Something about receiving packages from a member of Sith Intelligence. It didn’t help that the packages were about a supposedly dead agent and her possessions, and that was the last time I heard from that member of Sith Intelligence.”

There wasn’t an ounce of accusation in his voice, only exhaustion at the politics of government.

Lana tucked her datapad away. “I couldn’t keep her things around, nor throw them out. There wasn’t anywhere else to send them.”

“I gave it all back to her.” He sighed and leaned his back against the wall. “It’s… been rough since Coruscant got hit, and then you dropped out of contact when Dromund Kaas was blockaded.” He shut his eyes. The stark glow of the temporary lights aged him decades; showed her the strain he’d been under.

“Theron. It…” It would be a mistake to spout excuses. Best to change the subject.... “Theron. You can’t let the weight of the galaxy rest on your shoulders all the time,” Lana chided softly.

He didn’t open his eyes. “Isn’t that why you talked me into coming here? To lighten your load?”

There had been very little needed to talk him into it. She’d barely offered him a few details before he was demanding the coordinates and swearing he’d leave as soon as he could.

“I asked you here because you’re good.”

He cracked open an eye. “Okay.”

“And Fiika… I’m not quite sure how she’s handling having Valkorian in her head, not after what he did to Ziost. Pattik’s trying, I can see that much, but you and her were like brother and sister on Rishi. Could you talk to her, please? She won’t tell me some things. I’ve sensed that much.”

“Yeah, I’ll check in with her.” A faint smile whispered across his lips. “I’ll prove I’ve had the better training.”

“Force help us, you are not starting that up again.” Lana gave him a stern look. “I swear half the base will get in on it.”

“Even better.” He pushed off the wall and approached. “It’s… it’s just good to see you, Lana.” Theron enveloped her into a gentle hug. “It was a long five years.” His arms tightened slightly. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

She hugged him back, particularly aware that one of her hands was half-droid and hidden under a glove. He didn’t need to know, or see. It was her wound, her burden. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

Neither of them  drew away for a moment, not until she sensed him about to ask a question.

It would be something she wouldn’t want to answer. Lana broke the embrace. “Shall we get you introduced to everyone?”

“Actually…” He scratched the back of his head. “I was going to unpack and take a nap. I’ve been tired all day, and I swore off caf.”

“You swore off caf?”

“I… yeah, it was a bad idea, but I sleep better.” Theron caught her doubtful look. “Yes, Lana, I actually sleep now.”

“Then go unpack and get some rest. I daresay you’ll need it.”

He nodded and headed down the hallway. “See you later.”

She stared at the end of the corridor long after he vanished from sight.

Theron was safe, he was fine, he’d survived the five years of hell since the Eternal Empire had invaded. Yes, he was hiding that he was upset at her for dropping out of contact with Fiika’s death, but he didn’t blame her for it, nor did he blame her for being dismissed from the SIS.

But then why did her heart feel broken?

 

* * *

 

“Hey, you.” Koth took up the doorway to her new quarters hesitantly. “Can we talk?”

Fiika swallowed whatever emotion was trying to climb up her throat. “Of course.” She stepped away from her bins of belongings to give ehim her full attention.

He paced across the room, fingers tapping out nervous beats and looking everywhere but her. “So...uh, Gravestone’s coming along together. SCORPIO’s clued me into all kind of needs and requirements. Think there’s a lot she’s holding back still, but I’m not about to push her. A lot of time and resources to get everything shipshape. We’ll make it.”

_Are we talking about the ship still?_

She eyed him. Koth… it was confusing and awkward and difficult to pin down whatever it was between them. Either they were teasing with layered flirts or he was avoiding her or she was in a med-bay. Maybe the timing would never be right. Or…

Fiika let humor creep into her tone. “It’s a relief to know you’re on top of things for once.”

“For once?” He bounced on his toes, trying to hide a smile.

“Three minutes.”

Koth pursed his lips. “It’s something to be said of having a clear-cut purpose. You know… i was meant to find that ship in the swamp… and so were you.” The teasing light left his eyes, replaced with something earnest. “Two of us? Same heading.”

She shifted closer. “I’d like to think so.”

Koth didn’t meet her eyes. “I know you can take care of yourself, but back on Asylum…” He looked up, face hollow. “I was sure we were going to lose you.”

_It’s been months. How long has this been plaguing you?_

Fiika stepped closer, pulling him into a hug. “I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere. Someone’s got to make sure you get those three minutes.”

“Oh, and it’ll be you?”

“I’d be daft to not believe you can really get whatever it is done, no matter what.” She went up on her toes and kissed his cheek.

A quiet smile lit up his face. “I’ll see you ‘round, Fiika. Maybe one day I’ll even let you fly the Gravestone.”

She playfully shoved him towards the door. “You better.”

 

* * *

 

Koth eyed the last bit of muja fruit on the platter and helped himself.

_If there’s a lot, take a little. If there’s a little, take a lot._

The jukebox had been a great… he wanted to say purchase. Borrow could be more accurate; if he ever planned on returning it. Which he didn’t. And he didn’t think the run-down club Hylo had directed him to on a place called Nar Hutta would be missing the jukebox. It wasn’t like it was working when they’d liberated it.

She’d insisted on this particular one, too. Something about a special song on it with her and a Devaronian.

He didn’t ask.

He wasn’t sure he even wanted to know.

Len’s roar carried over the blasting music. “To…To old friends and new allies!” The man was drunk, effectively proving it when he raised his glass and spilled most of it onto Hylo.

She didn’t seem to mind. “I’ll drink to the second part.”

Lana rolled her eyes and turned back to the bar. “Do you even recall the last time we relaxed?”

Koth snorted. “I can. It was two-point-five million years ago, and Senya was still a jerk.” He selected another ale bottle from the bar and popped the cap with a deft twist.

“And to think I was going to sing for you all tonight,” Senya teased, striding past them.

_Wait, you-_

“You were what?” he regretted his words. Barely. “Oh, come on, I have to hear this.”

She grinned spitefully. “Too late now.”

Koth watched her sit with Pattik in a quiet corner. She wasn’t anywhere out of his line of sight, and he liked it like that.

“Theron.

He turned back to Lana. Her voice had taken on a softer tone as she reached over and gently teased the datapad out of the new guy’s hands.

He smiled back in mock irritation. “Thanks.”

Koth wasn’t sure what to think of him yet. He’d been… well, from how Lana had talked about him, he’d expected some jumpy guy covered in scars from various accidents. Maybe a bit of a doofus, maybe less tunnel-visioned on reports… Theron in person was distinctly different from Koth’s mental image of him, and neither perfectly fit the small bits of information Lana had told him over the years.

Theron’s face cracked into a wide grin. “Hey, look who it is!”

Fiika.

She slid into the seat next to him and helped herself to a water bottle. “I see Lord Beniko’s forcing you to unwind. She’s revoked your datapad privileges?”

“Don’t worry, we didn’t really start with you.” An impish twinkle glittered in Theron’s eyes. “I heard there’s going to be karaoke.”

“No.” Fiika stared hard at him.

Koth had to admit Theron for not backing away from a look like that. Maybe the man was tougher than he looked.

Lana butted in between the pair. “I wasn’t sure you’d attend.”

Fiika turned her glare on the Sith. “Since when have I ever been that dull?”

“Should I tell the truth?” Lana fired back.

“Lie lie lie lie,” Koth sang.

Theron snorted. “Ah, don’t listen to them.” He held up a bottle of ale. “So, going to have a drink with us or what?”

Fiika still stared at Lana. “You drank something, didn’t you, M’lord? You actually drank.”

“I… it’s a celebration.” She took the bottle from Theron. “See, look. I can unwind like everyone else.” Lana flicked the cap off and took a sip. “Oh, that’s… foul.”

Theron ducked his head to hide his grin.

“Actually, I was hoping to have a dance with one of you.” Fiika flicked her gaze to Koth.

He plastered on a look of mock concern. “Who could it be?”

“Not to tear you away from the bar, Koth…” She held out her hand.

“Already ate all the food. I’m good.” He took her hand and led her to the dance floor.

_Hell, maybe that jukebox was worth the trip._

 

* * *

 

“He really ate all the food, didn’t he?” Theron gazed down at the bowl filled with the sad remnants of a fruit salad. Only juice and pieces too small to qualify eating were left. He set the bowl back down and continued poking around behind the bar.

“Imagine if he was hiding out with us on Rishi.” Lana smirked and shook her head.

“Fiika would’ve given him a piece of her mind. Still…” he unearthed a bag of bar… some sort of snacky thing. “Better than Jakarro.”

She nodded. “Fair point, actually.” Her eyebrows moved closer together in concern. “Don’t tell me you’re about to try to barkeep.”

Theron stood tall and looked down his nose at her. “Why yes I am. What can I get you, M’Lord? Something dark and Sithy?”

“Juice.”

He poured a bottle into a tall glass and garnished it with a tiny green umbrella. “Anything else?”

“Juice lacking the umbrella?”

“No, it’s the Theron special.”

“Force help us all.” Lana took out his datapad and started flicking through it. “You know… I wonder if we could recruit the Order of Shasa.”

He gently pried his technology from her. “After their research facility was sunk because of us? Definitely.” He helped himself to her untouched juice. A name on the datapad caught his eye. “Okay, here’s one. The Corellian Run Scoundrels.”

“No! Oh, no, no, please let the galaxy fall.” Lana played with the miniature umbrella, spinning it about the rim of the juice glass with the Force. “Perhaps we should put massive recruitment on hold, at least until we’ve gotten stabilized here.”

“Good idea.” Theron tapped the umbrella and it fell over onto the bar.

 

* * *

 

Pattik wasn’t one for parties. The Jedi didn’t hold them, he didn’t drink, he didn’t dance… There was something distinctly awkward about sitting alone while everyone else bounced around in a drunken haze.

Fiika and Koth were doing a fast twirly thing near the middle of the dance floor.

In the center of it all was Hylo Visz, doing some complicated jumpy thing and spilling her ale everywhere.

“I need some air,” Senya said flatly. She left him sitting alone and disappeared.

Pattik sighed.

Being alone at this party only made him feel old and stiff.

He left his seat to join Lana and Theron at the bar.

 

* * *

 

Koth was as good at dancing as he was at piloting.

It was taking all of her training to not trip over their collective feet. But it was fun, the music fast, the stench of alcohol and sweat filling the dance floor.

He winked and tried to twirl her.

Fiika burst out laughing and wiggled a finger at him. “That’s not how you do it. Here, I’ll show you.”

“Oh, you’re going to teach me how to spin you around?”

“Someone needs to.”

Koth made a face and yanked her close. “Do they?”

“Oh, yes, definitely, or you just might knock someone over.” She tried to hide the smile forcing itself into existence. “I mean, you’ve nearly knocked me off my feet.”

He tried spinning her again and failed. “I’ll just try harder then.” His eyes were brimming with humor. The beat changed to something even faster. Koth pushed her away and followed her, sliding across the dance floor and pulling off a smooth move. He finished with a little spin and flicking his coat collar up. “How you doin’?”

Fiika was laughing too hard to respond.

 

* * *

 

The music was dwindling down, partially due to Alliance members filtering out for various reasons, and for the junker jukebox overheating. Smoke was leaking from the top in a thin line.

Fiika and Koth headed back to the bar, now empty with Theron behind it. Lana and Master Pattik were perched on stools with untouched drinks in front of them.

And they were discussing business.

Fiika sighed and grabbed a water canteen.

Koth took another ale bottle. He hopped up to sit on the bar, swinging his legs and frowning at the others. “Aw, I knew the party would die without us-” He went still, eyes staring at an empty table. “Hey, have you seen Senya? Has anyone seen Senya?”

Fiika looked around the cantina…

No Knight. Senya was either hiding, and particularly good at it, or she was not in the room.

“Koth,” Lord Beniko started. “She’s not hunting you anymore. You’re going to have to trust her eventually.”

He slipped off the bar and started looking under tables.

Fiika leaned over. “You can’t make someone forget their past just like that. Give him time. He’ll come ‘round,” she spoke softly.

Lord Beniko bowed her head in acknowledgement. “Fair enough.”

Koth muttered something and returned to them. “Crew needs to get back to work in an hour. That should be fun.”

Fiika followed his gaze to Len and Tora passed out in a booth, far too many ale bottles surrounding them to imply a natural sleep. “They’re going to have quite the hangover.”

“I need to plan some meetings.” Theron slid his datapad out of Lord Beniko’s reach.

She raised a challenging eyebrow. “Reminds me of my advisor days.”

“So the party is over?” Pattik asked.

“Yes.”

He relaxed.

Fiika sipped her water, still scanning the room for the missing Zakuul Knight. “I’m going to see about Senya.”

Pattik nodded at the door. “I think she’s outside.”

“Oh, so you _did_ know where she was,” Koth snapped. He looked like he instantly regretted his words. “Fiika, if you find her, tell her I said…” His voice trailed off as he searched for words. “Sorry, if I made her leave for some reason.” He turned back to his crew. “TORA! LEN!”

They mumbled insults.

“Let’s go, you miserable lightweights.”

Fiika watched them stumble to their feet before going in search of Senya.

 

* * *

 

The cool twilight breeze did nothing to soothe her. Nor the scent of the forest, the voices of every creature going about their lives in the woods, the feel of the Force…

_‘Mother, Mother, I found the bestest one yet!’ Vaylin’s gold curls glimmered where patches of sunlight made it through the leaves. She was beaming in excitement, holding up part of a broken tree branch. ‘It’s perfect, right, Mother?’_

Senya shook her head, pushing the memory away. She’d kept this bottled up for months while they built the base, forcing herself to ignore the words her daughter had said, the pain they caused… She’d run from the truth she felt.

_Maybe I should have stayed. Maybe… Maybe Arcann…_

She pushed off the railing and shut her eyes, letting the Force flow over her until she was drowning in it.

_The twins were playing another prank. Both were in Arcann’s white robes, standing in opposite corners of her study. Thexan kept insisting he was Arcann, and had stormed away in frustration when the ruse was up. ‘How’d you know it was me, Mother?’ Arcann had asked, climbing onto her lap. Senya had smiled and kissed his forehead and said she would always know her sons._

She kicked that memory out, too.

Why was her mind insistent on dredging up the painful memories?

_‘Mother.’ Thexan stood alone in her doorway. He was angry and upset and every bit his father’s son. ‘You can’t leave us.’ Senya didn’t listen to him. He shouldn’t have been up this late. She put on her armor, ignoring him. ‘You’re going to fail.’ She stopped at his words. Vaylin… Vaylin needed to get off Nathema, her daughter was in pain… Thexan turned her around. Lightning flashed, and he looked like Valkorian when she’d met him. ‘Don’t come home unless you’ve got her.’_

A tear slipped down her cheek. She hadn’t rescued Vaylin, she’s left her sons to that monster… Thexan must’ve known why she never returned.

_Did Arcann?_

The Force flickered with another presence approaching her.

_Fiika._

Senya stared up at the brilliantly pink clouds. “It’s impressive, you know. People from all over the galaxy want to stand behind Pattik.”

_He’s the only one who’s fought Arcann and lived._

Fiika remained back. “That can’t be what you’re out here contemplating.”

_Thexan didn’t survive going up against his brother._

“It is, in a way.” Senya took a deep breath and turned to look up at the base. It was best to lie, save herself the heartbreak of putting her thoughts into words. “I was thinking how so many Scions followed Heskal. He would have them die as he did because their deaths were foreseen. Their visions provide great insight… but they’re not infallible.” She shut her eyes. The doubt about the Scions was new, and she’d been thinking about their blind following of Heskal since they’d escaped Asylum.

Fiika bought it. She leaned against the bridge railing and stared down at the ravine. “Reminds me of the Heralds of Zildrog.”

_There’s another leader who paid for his certainty._

“Say what you will about Valkorian, but he at least considered the viewpoints of others. He listened to me.” Senya sensed Fiika turned to look at her, probably with an inquisitive look. “Most of the time.”

_Not with Vaylin, not with Arcann, he wouldn’t have let-_

“Valkorian didn’t- He would never have done what-” She couldn’t breathe, no, the grief was choking her, refusing to be squashed down again. Senya stared at Fiika. She was so young, already so worn down and wounded in too many ways to count. “What Arcann…”

She couldn’t say it. Saying it would make it real, make it certain, and a small part of her refused to believe that the smiling toddler who hung onto her legs while cackling would become the twisted and calculating man who ruled Zakuul.

Senya looked up to see Fiika standing close, a hand on her shoulder.

_You’re so young, yet you know the weight of the galaxy, don’t you? I am so sorry._

“What is it?” Fiika gently pried.

It would be best to start at the beginning.

“Arcann had a twin. Th- Thexan.” Even saying his name tore at her heart. “They were inseparable until his death. Vaylin told me…” A sob forced its way up her throat. “Arcann murdered Thexan.” Senya covered her mouth to stop the sobbing that was going to come.

_Breathe._

“His own brother. Maybe if I had raised him…” The sobs burst out and Senya leaned against Fiika for support. Her sons, the twins, all the giggles and gurgles and moments… Why hadn’t she insisted they come with her? Why did she let them choose to stay with Valkorian? Thexan, oh Thexan, it’d been bad enough when she’d heard he died, but to know Arcann was the reason behind it… He’d seemed so hollow and shattered at the funeral.

She did not know her son.

Fiika had her arms around her and was gently rubbing her back. “Your fight with Vaylin- what happened?”

Senya stared unseeingly ahead. “I… What she had to say… it struck me down to my core. Paralysed me. She slipped away.” Her voice was emotionless in her ears. “Now more than ever I realize my children must be stopped and that I have to make peace with the choices I made.”

Standing here, smelling the forest, sensing the Force… it was too much like the clearing she took the children to play at. She needed something that was nothing like Zakuul.

Senya shook Fiika off and draw herself together.

_So young, so many hardships…_

“Whatever you’ve done to get here, I hope you can do the same.”

_The weight of guilt is a terrible burden._

 

* * *

 

Fiika watched the Knight trudge back into the base, held together with sheer willpower.

_‘She raises a good question. How do you look back on your path to this moment?’_

_Why don’t you take a look for yourself?_

_‘And what good would that do our alliance?’ Valkorian chuckled. ‘You may not see an alliance, but our destinies are intertwined. Take advantage of that fact and there’s so much you will be capable of.’_

She groaned and kicked the railing. He’d been silent for days, wonderful days, and now he was back to prying.

_I’d be capable of a lot more if you’d leave my head!_

_‘I see you defeating Arcann, even if there are those on this world who disagree.’_

_Not me. Pattik is the one who’d fought him and wounded him and got away. I was skewered. Now do see a way out of my head._

Valkorian didn’t respond.

 

* * *

 

Arcann stared past his flagship, at the countless stars that glimmered. “He’s out there somewhere. Our own father, plotting against us.”

_Where are you hiding?_

“He’s not the only one,” sang Vaylin. “After I told Mother that you killed Thexan, she probably wants your head.”

_You what?!_

She didn’t see his displeasure. “But it’s not a problem. You have the Throne, the Fleet, this whole empire…” Her grin was not pleasant. “You’re as safe from her as can be.”

_She is working with those outlanders who managed to break into the Spire. They have the Gravestone. I am not safe from them. Not yet._

Arcann didn’t turn to face her. His brother’s name… he forced himself to not show emotion, to not let her sense the pain that flared in his chest. “I wish…” He would have to say his name. She’d suspect otherwise. “I wish Thexan could be here now. He’d see I was right to challenge Father. Imagine it.” Slowly he spun to face her, arms aloft. “The three of us ruling this empire as it was meant to be ruled.” No single Emperor, the three of them overpowering Father…

If only he hadn’t… Hadn’t…

“I’d like it if Thexan were here, too.” She face went slack with sadness before she grinned and skipped over to him. “But that’s no longer possible. Doesn’t matter.” Her smile turned into a glare. “Father has a new favorite. He wants that outlander to take all of this from you.”

Father would control her, take over her body… If he fell and Fiika took the Throne, it wouldn’t be her inside her body. Father would rule Zakuul again and the Empire would remain stagnant, remain weak. “I’ll die before I let that happen to us,” he growled.

She patted his arm. “Of course you will.”

 

* * *

 

The base, finally finished, was far too quiet for Pattik to not be suspicious. Not everyone could have a hangover from the day before, nor would everyone be in the war room.

_What is going on?_

Lana was waiting for him in the lifts, flanked by Fiika and Theron. Both agents were wearing dress uniforms and Theron’s usually spiked hair was combed flat.

“What’s all this?” Pattik asked hesitantly.

Lana passed him a datapad. “It’s your first official speech as Alliance Commander.”

Oh, no. He didn’t want to be the sole one in charge. Experience told him that things went smoother with diplomacy and a wide variety of viewpoints. The Sith in the Alliance couldn’t be thrilled with a Jedi in command.

“And when was that decided without me having any say in it?” The question was half joke, having accusing.

She smiled back. “It was never decided. There was no vote. No meetings, no debates. It’s simply the way it is, the way it has been since you arrived. Everyone knows it, it's just official now.”

Pattik scanned the speech, not reading a word of it.

_In charge of the Alliance?_

“So… I’ve been promoted to Commander?”

Theron cleared his throat. “Yes, you have. Congratulations, Commander.”

Pattik felt the flutterings of nerves as the lift doors opened and he saw the sheer crowd waiting for him. Had the base population doubled since they’d first arrived?

Lana gently nudged him forward. “They’re looking to you to guide them to greatness as only you can. Take them there.”

He wrapped the Force about him like a mantle and strode forward, Fiika and Theron on either side of him, representing their factions. Yes, he was a Jedi, but both the Empire and Republic stood behind him against Arcann. Against Zakuul.

Fiika, chin high and eyes blazing. Theron, jaw clenched and guarded.

Pattik reached out and took their hands.

They would stand against Zakuul.

Together.


	11. Paralells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fiika begins her training to learn how to fight against Zakuul's elite Knights, Arcann polishes up his skills and gets a nighttime visitor. Lana and Theron discuss future Alliance missions with Admiral Aygo, and one petulant little Private gets punishment for being "a bloody git".

“Again.”

Fiika dodged the staff, dropped into a roll-

She bit back a particularly vile swear as Senya’s staff slapped her sore side. Not that one side was more sore than the other at this rate; she’d become the Knight’s favorite practice dummy since she agreed to train with her. It was worse than Agent training against Sith. Zakuul Knights had a distinctive way of fighting that left her usual diving and rolling to leap away, out of lightsaber range, as a style quite unsuited for fighting against Knights, as her bruises and aches could attest.

Senya didn’t consider her rolling and running away sportsmanlike. And Senya made it abundantly clear with her liberal use of the staff. She tapped her staff against the sparring mat, a stern, disapproving frown aimed at an irritated Fiika. “What did I say about the rolling?”

“I am not some bloody snot-nosed nappy-toting toddler.”

“Those were not my words.” Humor tugged the corners of Senya’s mouth upward. “But that’s the essence of it.” She offered her a hand up.

Fiika took it, and scrambled away from the Knight as she shifted the staff. Better to be a safe distance away than sorry she was back on what was left of her arse again. “Show me that move again.”

Slowly Senya turned, spinning her staff around. A step back with her left foot, kicking her right one out to give any adversary a jaw-cracking knockout. She planted her feet, spun the staff, ducked an imaginary blow, started to change stance…

Fiika circled her, watching for a way in.

The Knight left nothing unguarded. No weak ankles, bad elbow, sore shoulder… Every ache and pain Fiika felt, Senya obviously didn’t, and her stances would make it damn near impossible to get a knife up close, let alone in small targets between armor pieces.

She played with her dagger handles.

_ Senya was a top Knight in Valkorian’s personal Elite Guard. She’s one of the best, but she’s nothing compared to Arcann… There! _

_ ‘It’s a trap,’ warned Valkorian. _

Fiika shot forward, feinted left, rolled under Senya’s kick-

The staff knocked her daggers out of her hands with a swift jab.

“EMPEROR’S UNDERWEAR!” She stumbled away, fingers stinging something fierce. Fine. No bloody daggers, no bloody rolling or diving. She could brawl with the best of them.

_ ‘Don’t do it.’ _

Fiika charged Senya.

* * *

 

Pattik felt the Force warn him.

He looked up sharply, but no, the cantina was nearly empty. Just him, his energy pudding, and an incredibly hungover Tora who was threatening to throttle the protocol droid that was taking too long to get her something greasy and fried.

Something was going to-

His gaze landed on the proud red square hanging over the bar. Above the number twelve were the words ‘Days since last incident’.

Pattik had a feeling it was about to drop to zero.

* * *

 

There was a very small list of things that Fiika regretted doing the instance she started doing them. What had once been at the top of the list was her doing drunken karaoke, followed closely with not wearing sunscreen once to try and get tan. The third and final instantly-regretted action was starting a water-gun fight of her against her seven cousins.

Now at the top of her list was charging Senya and her staff in a blind rage fueled with frustration. Frustration that had built up over weeks of being smacked by that bloody staff, weeks of her training not being considered ‘sporting’, weeks of her body taking too long to get over the impalement from Arcann and weeks of still getting cold flashes. And, of course, weeks of Valkorian and his tiny little snide comments.

Fiika was damn well furious,and damn well earned that right to be furious.

Senya, to her credit, hadn’t been expecting a thought process usually reserved for stubborn rancors to surface within a highly-trained-and-should-know-better agent.

Fiika spun, kicked out, and was shoved away by the staff. She dropped into a roll to soften her landing and shot back at the Knight.

Senya’s fist collided with her shoulder.

_ ‘This is pathetic. You’re just getting beat up. Stop this nonsense and think.’ _

_ Shut up, you bastard. _

She whirled, ignored the blow to her back, and grappled with Senya over the staff.

“Fiika-“

She tried to yank it from the Knight’s hands. She pulled it over her shoulder and threw herself forward. Senya went sailing head over heels over her shoulders and landed heavily on her back.

Both of them still had the staff in a death grip.

A foot collided with her belly.

She toppled over, seeing stars.

_ Blimey. _

_ ‘I told you, Fiika.’ _

Everything ached. Fiika tried to take a deep breath and hissed at the roar of pain in her ears. A rib was definitely bruised. There was a pulse in one of her hands. Something was hopefully sprained and not broken. Her back was screaming where the staff had whacked her something awful.

“Fiika.”

Sweat was sliding down her temples and into her hair.

_ Oh fuck no, not now. _

Chills were starting to race up and down her body, a sure sign that she was going to have a cold attack. 

“Fiika.”

“I’m not getting up anytime soon.” She cracked open her eyes and found Senya leaning over her, smiling faintly. The sun was behind the Knight’s head, creating a halo of light.

The Knight hummed and a soft green glow built up around her hands.

_ Bloody hell, not- _

The queasy and slimy sensation of Force-healing slid along her battered body.

Senya poked her throbbing hand. “Pain is a great teacher, but it can only go so far.”

“And I’ve learned as much as I could from it now, have I?”

A smile appeared. “No, but I think a better method of training you should be taken into consideration. You…” Senya paused. “You aren’t deterred by pain. Turn over.”

Fiika rolled onto her back and groaned when Senya got to the sore spot from the staff. “An Agent’s got to keep fighting no matter what. You’d be daft to give up when you can still keep going.”

“Hm….”

She wriggled away from Senya and the Force healing. There was only so much of that slippery sensation she could take. 

“Tomorrow I want you to train me the way you’d train someone to become an Agent.” The Knight offered her a hand up. “I’ve been trying to train you to become a Knight, but clearly you aren’t cut out for that.” A droll smile lit up her face. “So make me an Agent. We can find a middle ground to advance your skills.”

Fiika nodded and picked up her coat from the edge of the sparring mat. “Tomorrow, then.” She needed a hot shower before the cold consumed her.

* * *

 

“Again.”

The trio of Knights charged him, lightsabers spinning.

He waited with his back against the sparring arena wall, his staff held loosely in his hand, patient.

In the battle of lightsaber versus staff, lightsabers always won. The Knights knew this. Arcann knew this. One could argue that even the staff and the lightsabers knew this, since it was a basic fact of combat. Lightsaber beat wooden staff.

Unless, naturally, the staff never came into contact with the lightsabers.

He stayed on the balls of his feet, waiting for them to get closer, waiting… 

Waiting...

Just another moment…

Arcann flipped over the Knights and landed in a cloud of dust. The Knights leapt off the wall to face him, waiting for his next move. He rushed the one on the left, sliding under her lightsaber, staff whacking her legs out from under her.

The middle Knight’s lightsaber barely missed his arm as he twisted and planted his boot on the Knight’s chest. Arcann used the momentum to land on his feet. Dust was swirling up, clouding the air and probably getting stuck in the filters of his mask.

Two Knights scrambling in the dirt, one-

He whirled around the Knight’s advance and grabbed the lightsaber hilt with his cybernetic hand. The Knight turned and tried to shove an elbow into his belly.

Arcann tore the lightsaber from the Knight and whipped the staff around, sending the last Knight sprawling into the first one. She’d just gotten back on her feet to return to the arena floor. He tossed the lightsaber aside.

The second Knight came at him again in a flurry of blows.

He snarled as the Knight managed to knick his mask.

The Knight faltered.

No. The hesitance was an insult. How dare the Knight hold back against him, let his skills suffer because this Knight was too cowardly to risk hurting his Emperor.

He would teach the Knight to not hold back.

Arcann flicked out his staff and pushed the Knight into the center of the arena. Another flick of the staff to the Knight’s exposed elbow. The lightsaber fell, he batted it away, the Knight held up his arms defensively, the-

The Force surged.

He vaulted over the Knight, staff meeting the helmet of the approaching Knight behind him. 

Arcann landed with a thud and went at the cowardly Knight who’d held back, pummeling him with jabs and cracks at anything unarmored., occasionally sending a vicious blow towards the other Knights to keep tham at bay.

The Knight slipped on the sand and fell. He curled up in a ball to try and protect himself in futility. 

He didn’t relent until the Knight was screaming.

The other two Knights were smartly staying back as their counterpart was given a lesson in what happened when one held back against the Emperor.

Arcann dropped his staff in the sand.

“Again.”

* * *

 

“He’s just a nuisance.” Admiral Aygo shook his head and frowned at the battle station holo. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Lana was tapping her fingers thoughtfully on the holoprojector. “But he could ruin the moral of a whole squadron or disrupt the peace. Something needs to be done. He quite possibly will be resentful for having a Republic commander calling him out.” She paused at their expressions. “If he is as bad as you say, then we ought to find someone he’d… consider his equal to correct him. I know a certain agent just for the job. She’d be more than happy to correct that pilot.”

“And this fortress?” Admiral Aygo gestured to the battle station. “I’ve run every battle plan I can think of, but the cost is too high. We’ll lose more than half our pilots and even more ships. A direct attack would be suicide.”

Theron sighed and slunk down into his seat. Arcann’s… there wasn’t yet an official name for them, but Star Fortresses were the current nickname, and they seemed completely impossible to infiltrate or attack. It didn’t help that every scouting probe they’d sent was blasted to space dust before it could transmit anything.

He ran a hand down his face. “Let’s… We’ll come back to it. I think we’re going to have to get creative with the fortress.”

Admiral Aygo looked less than pleased at that. “Fine.”

“Need anything else?” Lana turned the holo off.

“No.” The Bothan Admiral nodded curtly and stalked out the war room.

Theron averted his gaze as Lana went to take a sip of caf.

_ No caf, buddy, you gave that up. Remember sleep? Sleep is great. No caf. _

“I’ve heard Doctor Oggurobb is healing nicely.”

He snorted. “His pride or his cut?” Theron glanced at her and found his gaze fixated on the caf. It smelled unbelievably tantalizing… Could one little cup-

Lana caught his look and set her caf out of sight. “Both, I presume.”

“He’s not going to suggest inspecting SCORPIO and her programming anytime soon.”

“No, no, certainly not.”

Theron watched her out of the corner of her eye. She was silent in thought, lips pursed as she read her datapad, fingers still tapping out a beat on the holoprojector. He hadn’t remembered her wearing gloves inside like this before, but perhaps it was a habit she’d picked up in those years they were out of contact. Years where he should have said something, reached out, seen how she was coping with Fiika’s death…

He could’ve done it.

Should’ve done it.

Would’ve done it if he’d known that they’d be sitting in rooms brimming with somewhat awkward silence. And if it’d kept them in contact-

A thunderous crescendo of crashes came from outside.

Lana’s head snapped up and she met his eyes. “I think that summer storm’s here.”

“Certainly sounds like it. I’m going to go find Fiika to get her to deal with that Private.”

“I believe Fiika and Koth are outside.” 

Theron nodded and headed towards the lift outside, passing the caf machine.

_ You don’t need it. _

* * *

 

The breeze whispered through the trees, carrying the particularly uncomfortable sticky sensation of humidity and the scent of rain. In the distance, storm clouds brooded over the forest. They’d slowly been rolling closer as if they hadn’t made up their mind on whether or not the little base ought to have its first thunderstorm of the summer.

She leaned further over the ravine edge.

The base was barely in view, the shallow dome of a roof blindingly reflecting the sun, unaware of the storm.

A pair of people were working on a small starship on one of the catwalks. Agent Allos was one, she recognized the girl’s force-signature from Yavin IV. The other… he was unknown to her. But he was close to Agent Allos.

She frowned as the Imperial Agent leaned into him and teased him, before whipping his goggles off his head and putting them on her own.

But aside from them… the base looked deserted.

Deserted, but fuller and lived in compared to weeks ago when an obnoxiously loud party had been going on.

No, not deserted, Master Pattik was up on the cliff above the ravine, meditating silently and swaying with the trees in the wind. Rain started to fall as the storm arrived, the sunlight disappearing.

The base didn’t seem fazed. The domed roof still shone as it became slick with water.

“They’ve come so far…” Satele trailed off, catching sight of her son beckoning Agent Allos and the other one inside.

The Force Ghost beside her nodded. “Indeed, they have.”

“They still have far to go... but at this rate they could one day pose a threat to the Eternal Empire.”

“Perhaps.” Darth Marr tilted his head in disdain as Theron shut the base door behind Agent Allos. Satele followed his line of sight to Master Pattik. “It’s a pity so many of them will have to die.”

* * *

 

Admiral Aygo gestured to the short and stocky Imperial Private built like a storage canister; that is to say, shorter and stockier that the usual short and stocky fair. His uniform was badly pressed and his hair long overdue for a trim and wash. “That’s him. We’ve had to assign him three different pilots since we’ve started drills. No one wants him, but he’s the best shot we got.”

Fiika nodded and casually weaved around fuelling tubes and canisters of air, keeping him in sight. His pilot was Republic and staring at him in disgusted disbelief. She leaned against the back of their fighter, listening.

“-so don’t think you get to boss me around, Pub. Remember which side’s really in charge of this base.”

_ You bloody git. _

“Private, is it?” fired back his pilot. Corporal Asani had one hell of a patronizing tone, Fiika could give her that. “Maybe you’re not aware,  _ Private _ ,  but this is an alliance. There are no sides.”

“That’s what they keep telling us, but you know it as well as I do.”

“Saying something’s true is one thing. But it has to feel true, and it doesn’t.”

The Private didn’t pick up on her sarcasm. “Exactly right, exactly right. And so we’re clear, Corporal, your rank means nothing to me. Less than nothing.”

Fiika ducked under their fighter and positioned herself directly behind him. The Corporal saw her, blinked in surprise- “AT ATTENTION, PRIVATE SCHOR.”

“BLOODY HELL!” He leapt a good foot into the air and whirled, face white with the surprise bellow in his ear. “What d’you want, lassie?”

“AT ATTENTION.”

Private Schor snapped his heels together and straightened his spine. “Sir!”

“Do you know who I am, Private?”

“No, Sir.”

Corporal Asani did. A sinister smile crept across her face.

Fiika stared hard at Private Schor. “I’m Agent Allos, and I report directly to Commander Pattik, Private. Are you wondering what the Jedi would think of your attitude? Or what Lord Beniko would say? I do wonder what the Sith would do to you if she found out what an arso you are.”

He swallowed. “You’re Imperial, Agent Allos, you know-”

“What I bloody know is that you’ve got an ego bigger than your brain, you git, and you’re the only one taking a blasted side.” She gestured to the Corporal. “She outranks you. You show her the respect she deserves for putting up with your pathetic arse, or I’ll let Lord Beniko know precisely why one of our fighters is underperforming. Understand?”

Corporal Asani smirked at him.

Fiika let a look of displeasure show. “Well, Private?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good.” Fiika pushed past him and gave Admiral Aygo a grin that the Private couldn’t see.

He nodded discreetly and turned back to his captains, miniature holoprojector in hand.

Fiika stode out of the hangar and through the tunneled hallways towards her room. A perk of being specialist and Lord Beniko’s personal pilot was her own private quarters.

Koth was outside her room, trying to balance a pair of mugs while attempting to knock on her door with his elbow.

“Hello, Captain Vortena.”

He grinned at her. “Hello, hello. I brought you some hot chcolate.” Koth held out a mug for her.

Fiika took it, smiling with amusement. “Might I inquire as to why?”

“It’s raining, right? Everyone needs hot chocolate when it’s raining.” He looked like he wasn’t sure if he should stay or not.

She took a sip. “What else is in it?”

“My special recipe.”

“Koth.” Fiika opened her door and gestured for him to come in. “This is the best hot chocolate I’ve ever hand.” She slunk down onto her couch and stuck her boots on her dejarik table.

“Glad you like it.” He sat beside her. “I put a sliver of tang bark into the processor.”

She sipped her drink, the two of them sitting close enough that if either moved any closer, they’d be touching, but neither did.

“Fiika.” Koth was playing with his mug and not drinking his hot chocolate. He set it aside on the table.

“Hm?” 

He gave her a serious look. “You’re something special, you know.”

Fiika set her drink down as he continued.

“You just.. You just know what to do, and you’ve got this talent with words.” He leaned in closer. “And I’m not good with words, so… uh, can I- well, I mean… Oh Izak take me me.” Koth pressed a kiss to her cheek. “There. I like you.”

Fiika could feel a grin on her face. “It’s about time.”

“You-” A matching smile grew on his face. “You mean to tell me you like me to?”

“I guess I need to be a bit more obvious.” She pulled him close and planted one on him. “There,” she mocked him playfully. “I like you. Even if you think you’re a better pilot than me.”

He leaned back laughing. “I am.”

“Sure, Mr. Three Minutes.”

Koth stared back in mock outrage. “That was fighting!”

“Wouldn’t’ve happened if I’d given you some piloting tips.”

“Okay, fine. Next week, you and me, we’ll take the Gravestone for a spin. And I might even let you pilot.”

* * *

 

Arcann shifted and pulled his sheets up higher. The environment conditioner was overzealous. 

She curled closer to him, head tucked under his for warmth and comfort.

Comfortable again, he-

Arcann’s eyes flew open and he shoved whoever it was in his bed away. He force-flicked on the lights.

“Oi!” Long gold hair glittered in the dim light at the figure righted herself. “That was rather rude.” She pulled her hair of her face, and Fiika raised an eyebrow at him. “Have a nightmare?”

He- He was…

Fiika wasn’t wearing much of anything, just his tunic and very delicate-looking underwear.

Arcann shook his head. “You’re not really her.”

“Yes, I’m Fiika.”

“No you are not. Whoever you are, get out of my chambers  before I become angry.” He pushed himself upright and found her straddling his lap, playfully shoving him back down with a warm hand on his chest. “Get off me!”

“Or what?” Not-Fiika murmured. “Are you going to punish me, Emperor Arcann?”

_ Not how you expect. _

“Tell me who you are.”

Her eyes flickered from pewter gray to empty embers. “Not going to use the Force to sense me?” She waited a beat before her smile turned ferocious as she pulled off his tunic. “Look at what you did to me, Arcann.”

Her fingers trailed around the horrific scar on her belly.

He remained silent and swallowed the guilt he swore he’d never feel again.

“I don’t know what I am insulted with more, your cowardice or your incompetence. You failed to kill me, Arcann, and you know I’m one of your many weaknesses. Since you couldn’t kill me, does that mean you like me more than Thexan?”

Arcann bellowed in rage and backhanded her off his bed.

There was no thud or cry of pain.

He summoned his lightsaber and threw off his covers.

She was gone. Like that.

No, not she. That wasn’t Fiika, someone was pretending to be her to get a rise out of him.

Arcann set his lightsaber on his nightstand and buried his head in his hands. He’d tried to hate her, despise her, tell himself that he was an Emperor and she was a nobody.

Yet he still harbored irrational mercy towards her. Enjoyed the brief moment of her cuddling into him.

He… 

And now someone was using her to get a rise out of him. Only one person knew the depths of his guilt over her freezing and his want for more kindness from her. He’d seen Arcann foolishly try and protect her, seen it all, been there for every moment of it.

_ Father. _


	12. Anarchy and Torment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fiika and Theron head to Zakuul to recruit Firebrand. Fiika tags along with her, and Theron goes all over Zakuul to collect things for a Findsman. Pattik starts to re-learn lightsaber techniques. Valkorian keeps his son from getting any sleep, and it shows. Arcann is beginning to cave in from exhaustion and nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, yeah, I know it's been six months since an update. Sorry. Went back to college and it was a rough quarter. The updates should be more frequent since I'm getting more motivated since the fic's a chapter or two away from the good ones I've got planned.

_ She- That- _

_ No, don’t think about her. _

_ And the Jedi, that Jedi fool, he dares think he can escape me again, no, no, next time he will lose not just his arm. I will make him lose everything- _

_ Even her. _

That girl who’d made him become interested in her, filled him with guilt, with… with… with a perverse want for her kindness. He was the Emperor, he didn’t need her, didn’t need a weakness in the form of a poisoned girl. A poisoned nobody.

She was a weakness he needed to get rid of.

And then she would stop haunting his dreams and he could get a good night’s sleep.

_ Or protect her here, and then I’ll be protect- _

_ No. The Jedi. The Jedi is the threat, and that Alliance he’s started. _

_ I will not be threatened. I am the Emperor. _

* * *

 

Arcann kicked off the sheet that was strangling his legs.

Something wasn’t right, there was someone in his chambers… A barely audible clink from the sitting room gave their location away.

He pulled his robe on, secured his mask, lightsaber in hand. His cybernetic arm had been temporarily replaced with an old, stiff model after Asylum. Engineers were working on an improved model, with heavier plating and, as he expressly stated, dagger-proof.

If Fiika hadn’t stabbed through most of the wiring, his arm wouldn’t’ve malfunctioned, she wouldn’t have been stabbed, she would- She could be here on Zakuul, working with him to get Father out of her mind; treated like royalty, she-

_ Focus. _

Arcann slipped silently into his sitting room.

A figure in shadow was poking around the lounge seating.

He stepped silently closer, bare feet not making even a whisper on the cold floor. The figure didn’t seem to realize he was there, as they continued-

“You dare be in my rooms?” Arcann pressed the hilt of his lightsaber against their back, cybernetic hand settling around their throat.

The figure disappeared into thin air.

_ Father. _

He flicked on the lights and balked at the lounge table.

A familiar box, long and thin and refrigerated, sat there. There was nothing particularly special about it, except that an identical box had been sitting there six years ago, when his scars were still fresh and his cybernetic arm was new and cumbersome.

The memory rose before he could stop it.

_ “Brother. Someone sent you a package.” _

_ Arcann frowned, not that Thexan could see with the mask. “Have you heard of knocking?” He studied the large durasteel box his brother carried in both arms. It appeared heavy, with a sealed lid. _

_ Thexan set it down with a thud on the sitting room table, waving Arcann over. _

_ He undid the clasps and paused. “Who sent it?” Arcann asked suspiciously. Something told him it wasn’t actual mail. _

_ “I wasn’t told,” Thexan admitted. His expression seemed… too innocent. _

_ Arcann stepped back from the box and raised the lid with the Force, ready to leap out of the way if something, probably paint in some obnoxious color, exploded out. _

_ Nothing. _

_ Just the hiss of refrigeration and a faint cold mist rising. _

_ Thexan’s eyes were smiling as he looked in with polite interest. _

_ Arcann leaned forward. Inside the box was a human arm. Only an arm, covered in freckles and hair and scars that criss-crossed inflated muscles, no body attached to it, and with a little tag sitting between the index and middle fingers with bright red writing. He reached forward and snapped up the tag. _

_ In Thexan’s writing, it read ‘found it.’ _

He sat down heavily on the couch. It hadn’t been his arm that Thexan had retrieved. It was someone else’s, someone who had unhealthily enlarged their muscles and got into too many fights with knives. Where his brother had gotten the arm, he hadn’t asked.

Some things were best left unknown.

Arcann tapped his fingers on the armrest and lifted the box’s lid with the Force.

Mist curled over the edges and seeped across the table.

_ What did you leave me, Father? _

He leaned forward.

It was another arm. His ruined cybernetic one, complete with Fiika’s dagger still in it. Sparks shot out of the ripped wiring.

Sitting between the fingers was a card.

He reached forward and picked it up.

_ ‘Why did you hurt me?’ _ was all it read. Arcann squinted at it. The writing… it was Thexan’s.

“Why did you?” Father’s voice whispered in his ear. “Why did you hurt your brother so savagely?”

He shot off the couch and flipped in midair, facing-

Father wasn’t there. The room was empty.

“Your mother is heartbroken. She’s crying, blaming herself. Sh-”

“Stop this,” he growled. “Father, stop this.”

Father’s voice continued echoing around the room. “If murdering comes so naturally to you, son, why is it that you needed help from an outlander to kill me? You weren’t strong enough to do it on your own.”

No. He didn’t need this.

Arcann turned off the lights and went back into his bedroom. Father could torment him all he wanted, but he couldn’t keep him from meditating. Or sleeping. He tossed his robe aside, set his lightsaber on its stand.

“How do you think Thexan felt? His brother, killing him so viciously in a fit of uncontrollable rage,” Father taunted. “I had thought he’d be the most like me. Yet you proved me wrong.”

“I am not you,” he growled, setting his mask down on his dresser. He was not Father, he was not the powerfully experienced Emperor Father had been, but he had sent out his Fleet to finally bring Zakuul out of the shadows. He had been the one to make their Empire known throughout the galaxy. He had brought glory to the Eternal Throne where Father had let it become stagnant with monotonous comfort.

“Is that so, son? Father’s voice curled in his ear, tainted with humor and mockery.

Arcann looked up into his mirror.

Father smiled back in place of his reflection.

* * *

 

He danced back, adjusting his grip on the lightsaber. It wasn’t the one he’d made on Tython, decades ago, no. It was… To be frank, he wasn’t exactly sure who's it’d been, but his lightsaber was probably in some deep dark trash compactor on Zakuul. Lana had given him this replacement.

The pommel was heavier from a weighted spike. The grip wasn’t worn and molded by sweat to fit his hand. And it wasn’t the silvery gray he’d had since he’d become a Jedi Knight.

But it did it’s job, orange blade arcing through the air as he parried Lana’s advance.

He swept to the left, spun, kicked out-

Stars, she nearly had him, was he that rusty?

He ducked a swing and twisted-

“AH!”

Pain blinded him as the world turned sideways. Spots swam in his vision, sparks shooting up and down his nerves, tingling uncomfortably and his body felt numb, but he could feel the pain fading.

“Pat!” She kneeled over him. The Sith’s eyebrows were knitting together in concern, her cold hand checking his vitals. 

Pattik winced and took in a shaky breath. He batted her hand away, feeling coming back to his body. “No, no, I’m… fine.”

_ I’m not. _

Lana raised an eyebrow. “You certainly don’t look it,” she added dryly.

He took her offered hand up, going slow and bracing his back with his free arm. “I tried to bend my back one way and it… It didn’t work.” Pattik tried to stand up straight and staggered back. “Something’s not right.”

She pulled an arm over her shoulders. “You need the med-bay. Now.”

He was in too much pain to argue.

* * *

 

Vaylin skipped down the aisle towards the Throne.

Oh, he looked like he was in an absolutely dreadful mood. Perfect. He’d be so much more fun to tease. He was always more entertaining when tired, and he’d seemed exhausted on the holo the day before, eye squinting in weariness and purple bags under his eye.

It looked like he hadn’t had a decent sleep since then.

“You return empty-handed. Again.” Arcann glared down at her, frustration boiling off him.

She smirked. “I missed you.” She watched him balk in his pacing before he spun to face the Throne. Vaylin bobbed on her toes, waiting for him to speak, relishing in the anger in his stiff movements. Perfect for turning him against that harpy outlander.

“The Gravestone, the Jedi. Outlanders. Where are they?”

She pitched an innocent tone. “Patrols in five sectors report no sign of either. Perhaps they’re just figments of our imagination?”

The humor fell flat on him.

Pity. She’d been hoping to get at least a droll look.

Arcann slumped down in the Throne, eye burning with fury. “Someone knows the truth.” He banged his fist on the armrest in frustration.

“I know that look. You’re about to order something wonderful.” Vaylin beamed at his fierce glare.

_ Send me to find them, Brother. She’ll have an accident and your conscience can be clean. Let me loose upon the galaxy to hunt them down. Give me the freedom and I’ll make you proud like how Mother and Father never were. _

He was stiff in the Throne, looking like he was carved from the most unforgiving stone in the galaxy. “Choose one populated planet in each of the five sectors. Dispatch the Fleet to bombard them.”

She kept her mild disappointment camouflaged with excitement. “For how long?”

“Until they’re dust!” he bellowed. He shut his eye and took a deep breath to calm himself. “Someone knows, someone will talk. But only if we give them a reason.” He turned look out at the Fleet hanging in space.

Her brother looked tired. Tired and angry and worn down. Gone was the Arcann who’d picked her up off Nathema, who’d brought enough chocolate milk to her rooms that they’d both gotten sick off it and then spent the remainder of the trip trying to prank call Thexan on the holo. It was the last time they’d acted like children and had fun. Now he held the weight of the Empire on his shoulders and commanded the Fleet with white-hot fury at having his power challenged by a mere group of outlanders. When the anger faded, she wondered what fuel he’d have left to rule with.

Vaylin bobbed into a quick bow and started towards the lift.

She’d just have to cheer him up and give him back his spirit with bringing those outlanders out of hiding.

* * *

 

“How does it feel?”

Pattik twisted around and stretched his arms up, trying to discount the mild kolto high from the surgery. “Better than before.” He bent forward and hissed as pain prickled his cybernetic spine. “I still can’t move how I did before…”

Dr. Oggurobb checked his datapad. There was a fresh pink scar on one of his chins, courtesy of SCORPIO not taking kindly to the Hutt’s invitation to inspect her programming. “From my calculations, I don’t think that’s possible. The damage was severe. We can keep researching improvements if you wish, Commander.”

He wanted to say yes. He wanted to get back to normal.

But something told him that normal wasn’t what it used to be, and he’d have to get used to a new fighting technique.

“Thank you, Doctor. Only research if you’ve got nothing else to do. I don’t want take you away from something more important.”

“Yes, Comman-”

“Master Pattik?” Fiika balked in the doorway. “Terribly sorry to interrupt, Doc, but Master Pat’s needed in the war room, if he’s got the clearance to leave.”

He nodded. Any more time spent in the med-bay would be wasted time. Even if Pattik had to give himself clearance to get out, he would. “Give me a moment.” He gingerly pulled on his tunic and stepped carefully with her into the hallway. So far his upgraded cybernetics were fine. “How are you holding up?”

“Perfectly alright.”

Pattik pursed his lips. He hadn’t been specific enough. “We lost five years of our lives, Fiika. The galaxy has changed.”

She wasn’t looking at him. “Not that much. Burger Baron’s still ‘round and Lord Beniko can’t make a decent cup of caf. And Theron’s got that ghastly coat still. To be honest, I’m a bit surprised no one’s burned it yet.”

“Ziost-“

“And the Empire is as stiff as ever, and the Jedi still pry despite their good intentions..” Fiika shut her eyes and sighed. “Sorry, Master. I… I don’t want to talk about…. About...” She shook her head.

Pattik nodded. “Your home. I understand. And I apologize. I shouldn’t be asking you about it when we’re about to enter a meeting.” They hung a right, boots crunching on the dirt floors. “And the Emperor?”

“Daft bastard. I’ve been trying to get songs stuck in my head just to get him to bugger off.”

“Keep giving him hell.” That got a smile from her, a true, honest smile that warmed him. The galaxy could be falling apart around them, but Pattik could always count on Fiika’s ability to take joy in telling a bully to take a hike. Or whatever the Imperial phrase was for it.

Together they entered the war room, the others milling about the hologram table and Koth sitting back, eating a snack bar, chair tipped back at a particularly dangerous angle and feet on table.

“I got Master Pattik, Theron.” Fiika picked up her datapad and took her place near Lana, fingers poised to start typing any ideas down. “You said you had leads on allies?”

_ Good. We’re going to need more help to defeat Arcann. _

Pattik nodded for Theron to continue.

The spy looked less that hopeful. “Leads, yes, commitments, no. Lana’s still working on some major players.” He toggled the hologram to show the prickly planet of Zakuul. “Meanwhile, there’s a potential ally on Zakuul that we’ve been ignoring. ‘Firebrand’.”

Koth’s chair legs hit the floor with an echoing clack. “Your information is faulty. Firebrand’s not on our side.”

He hadn’t heard of this person. “Firebrand?”

SCORPIO spoke up. “An unidentified individual who arrived on Zakuul two years ago. She has carried out bombings in the Spire targeting military and civilian venues.”

She- civilians? Civilian bombings? Pattik felt a sense of relief when he saw an equally horrified look on others’ faces.

Koth looked furious. “That makes her a terrorist, not an ally.”

“It makes her both,” snapped Theron. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, I’m not thrilled with the idea, but we’re in no position to get choosy. She’s done as much damage as we have-“

“We haven’t bombed innocents!” Koth fired back.

“Theron…” Fiika was quiet, eyes distant as she thought. “I’ve infiltrated a terrorist cell before in the Navy. Allying with this person… It might not end well.”

He held up his hands defensively. “I’m just saying we talk. Besides, look around this place. Not many clean hands here.”

It…. Pattik wanted to agree that it was a fair point. They’d all killed people before. But to do so with the intent of striking fear into innocents… That wasn’t what the Alliance stood for. Not what he stood for. “What does she want?” he asked cautiously.

“Based on her rambling audio manifestos, she’s an anarchist, looking to bring down Emperor Arcann’s ‘perfect society’.”

Koth snorted and muttered “it’s not perfect.”

Pattik crossed his arms, not sold on the idea in the slightest.

SCORPIO’s eyes flared and the holoprojector changed from Zakuul to various forms of street art. “There are elements of the Spire’s population who create artwork in her honor. They even trade holograms of her handiwork.”

There were a lot of flames and explosions in the art that Pattik didn’t particularly care for.

Lana caught his gaze and frowned. “If she’s survived fighting Zakuul so long and she’s connected to the populace, she’s worth investigating.”

He couldn’t argue with that, just to learn about her tactics and how she gained followers. “Alright. We make contact. Only contact, no promises or offers without consulting all of us.” Pattik turned. “SCORPIO, you’re the expert on the Zakuulan underworld.

The droid stared back impassively with her glowing eyes. “The Lady of Sorrows could offer high-yield explosives to draw her out.”

It would have to work. They didn’t have many other options. “Proceed.” He paused. “I… I can’t go in person. My back isn’t going to be like it was, and I need to practice a new form to fight in. Someone else will have to go in my place.”

“I’ll do it.” Fiika looked up at the surprised silence, deeply insulted. “I  _ am _ the infiltration and deception expert here! I’ve still got the disguise Senya gave me from when we went to meet SCORPIO. And I daresay I know the area more that the lot of you since I’ve been there before.”

“I’m going too.” Theron shrugged. “Two spies are better than one? I’ll be backup if you need it, if not, Doc Oggurobb wants to recruit this Gand. I can get him if I’m not needed.”

“That’s settled.” Lana nodded at Pattik. “They’re going. And just be careful, you two. Arcann’s still hunting us, and Firebrand may not be the ally we’re hoping. Contact Teeseven when you arrive and he’ll help you get into… whatever you’ll end up getting into.”

* * *

 

“Hey, can I talk to you?” Koth wanted to smack himself in the head. Could he have said anything else what would’ve sounded more like he was about to deliver bad news? Maybe… maybe if he tried to smile- Nope, Fiika’s eyebrows were still migrating together in worry and his smile felt as natural as Tora’s hair color.

She tilted her head, stepping closer. “Of course. Is something wrong?”

_ Yes. _

_ No. _

He settled on a middle answer. “Kinda. I… I just want you to be careful on Zakuul, after Asylum. Arcann’s really going to be looking for you, and… Just be careful, alright?”

It was her turn to smile. Fiika rocked on her heels, grinning. “Worried ‘bout me, now, are you?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I’ll be even more careful than usual.” She bit her lip and then leaned up, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

She’d-

Izak take him, Koth could feel blood rushing to his cheeks. “I think you might’ve missed your mark.” That sounded even cheesier out loud, but it got her to laugh.

“I’ll have to practice with you when I get back.” Fiika winked and swung around to head towards the shuttle.

Theron was in the pilot’s seat.

“THAT’S MY BLOODY JOB, YOU ARSE-HEADED PUB!” Fiika broke into a sprint.

Koth shook his head, smiling to himself. She was something else.

* * *

 

“And?”

“And what?” Fiika ignored him, quite happily planted in the pilot’s seat after she’d literally tugged him out of it. She’d been the damn naval pilot, and Theron couldn’t boast that, now, could he? It was her job to pilot.

“Koth,” he said innocently, in a tone that could only mean anything but innocence.

Fiika did not to go down that specific conversation path. “Don’t you start.”

Theron leaned over. “You started it by kissing him.”

True, but only partially. “It was on the  _ cheek _ ,” she snapped back, as if that made it any different.

“Still a kiss.”

Fiika looked away from the hyperspace lane to give him a level look. If he wanted to play, she was game and determined to win. “Oh? So that cheek-kiss you gave Lord Beniko on Rishii…“

The blood drained from Theron’s face. “That was under different circumstances.” He adjusted his jacket, looking distinctly uncomfortable with the change of subject. “You know what? You’re like the sister I never wanted.”

It was too good an opportunity. “Brilliant! I was about to say the same towards you.” Out of the corner of her eye she could see him glaring at her.

“I walked into that one, didn’t I?”

“Yes.”

He sighed. “Stars, Fiik, I can’t believe I missed your sass.”

She started to end the energy feed to the hyperdrive. “Hold onto your compliments, we’re nearly there.” With a subtle change in the engine hum, the shuttle dropped out of hyperspace, Zakuul looming above them. Eternal Fleet ships dotted the atmosphere, clouds swirling below, offering peeks of a bright ocean.

Theron sat up straight and took over the co-pilot controls. “Well, here goes nothing.”

* * *

 

Theron had never actually been on Zakuul before. The sewers were like any other civilized planet with massive cities: stinking of chemical treatments that didn’t quite hid the stench of billions upon billion gallons of sewage, and an unfortunate mixture of creatures ready to, he assumed, eat his and Fiika’s intestines for an early lunch.

They made it out the sewers with minimal incidents and slipped into the city.

And he stared.

Yeah, sure, Koth, Lana, Pattik, Senya, they’d all told him about the Spire and the surrounding towers, and he’d studied maps, but nothing they mentioned could’ve prepared him for the unholy architecture that looked like a messy love affair between a Sith battlecruiser and the Republic Senate tower.

He… as much as Theron disliked it, he knew it’d grow on him. It always did. Manaan, Rishii, and force help him, even Yavin had grown on him at the end.

Fiika blended right in with the outfit Senya had given her. She wore the short black robe like a second skin, hood pulled low and fists in pockets.

Theron had no such luck. Senya and Koth had fussed over him, finally deciding on a dark duster and a vest heavy on the buckles and light on pockets. His jacket didn’t make the cut. There were worse things in life, like the fake eyepatch over his left eye that blended in with his cybernetics. That patch was annoying, focusing on this, that… he’d tried to keep the sensors from going berserk with everything, with varying success. It no longer half-blinded him when he saw weapons- Force damn it, the thing zoned it on a market stall full of grenades and lit up like Life-Day fireworks. He’d been trying to look past that stall.

“You good?” She was looking questioningly at him, sensing something wrong.

T7-01 hung back, dome swiveling to look at Theron.

No, he wasn’t okay. Theron yanked off the eyepatch and tossed it into the nearest trash bin. “That thing was getting on my nerves.”

“The paranoid one?”

“No, the fashion sense one.”

Fiika rolled her eyes as she started weaving through the crowd, T7-01 on her heels. “I thought that one didn’t exist.”

“What?”

“Your coat. The… your only coat, the red one. It’s horrible looking. If you had any fashion sense-”

Theron bobbed around a mother and her screaming children. “Or, maybe, my training is so much better than yours that I know how fashion’s going to be in a few years.” He kept an eye on anyone who glanced her way. If her hood shifted, if someone got a look at her face… Well, there’d be a big Skytrooper convention right at their location, no matter what T7-01 could do to the communications grid.

Fiika’s look wasn’t lost on him. “My training is telling me that’s a load of rubbish.”

His comm went off and they stepped down an alley. A miniature SCORPIO appeared. “The meeting is arranged. Firebrand expects to purchase explosives from my representatives. Transmitting location.” The comm chirped with the coordinates.

SCORPIO cut the call before either he or Fiika could acknowledge her.

_ Great. Glad we had this talk. And now we’re going into an abandoned transport station. _

“Think it’s a trap?”

Fiika frowned. “I don’t think so... SCORPIO wouldn’t get anything out of us being eliminated. Not yet anyway. I don’t trust her.”

T7-01 chirped his agreement, along with his unflattering opinions on SCORPIO.

“Neither do I. Keep your eyes open.”

* * *

 

“So now do you think it’s a trap? Or…” Theron crossed his arms, casually watching Skytroopers attempting to invade the abandoned transport station. The resident lowlifes were putting up quite a creative resistance. Homemade grenades of booze bottles sailed at the droids, and someone with damn good aim was shooting them out directly above the Skytroopers. Then the flamethrowers would activate once the droids passed a certain point and- whoosh. Burned Skytroopers.

The stench of well-cooked metal wasn’t pleasant, and he covered his nose as a breeze carried it towards them, mildly envious of T7-01. The astromech had no idea what the smoke stank like.

Fiika had her shirt pulled over her face, grimacing in disgust. “Not her style. SCORPIO seems to do things quietly or in a fashion. Nothing too easy like this.”

“Well, lets crash this party.” Theron drew his pistols and strode towards the station, Fiika on his left and daggers spinning in her fingers. T7-01 brought up the rear.

He shot out a pair of Skytroopers at the back of the herd and waded into them, firing at anything that looked like white droid armor.

The Skytroopers didn’t know what hit them. Half them turned to see what the commotion was at the back of the squad, the others were still fighting the resisting low-lifes.

That tactic worked perfectly.

He ducked under a malfunctioning arm, shot out the power core from the side-

Oh no.

The flamethrowers.

Theron hit the ground as best he could with the litter of droid parts, pulling the back of his duster over his head. Heat rolled over him, the air crackled, and he pretended he didn’t smell singed hair. Which… was probably his.

“Theron.”

He raised his head after a moment, welcoming the cooler air that hit his face. Fiika had some soot smeared on a cheek, and one side of her robe had caught fire. Frayed and burned edges lined the side, giving it a mildly lopsided look.

“Hiya.”

She offered him a hand. “Get up, you lug, it’s not naptime yet.”

He adjusted his coat and raised his pistols. “At least my clothes weren’t burned.”

“Like your hair?” She spun her daggers as they crept further into the abandoned transport station.

The underworld residents let them pass, suspicion in their eyes. Sure, they’d destroyed Skytroopers, but they didn’t know who Theron and Fiika were.

Trash was piled along the edges of the corridor. They rounded the stairs-

A tram had crashed there at some point. The cars were twisted onto their sides, windows cracked. Debris was like a carpet, and someone had walked through recently, scattered scraps to make a little path. This was where SCORPIO’s coordinates were.

Theron scanned the room with his implant and picked up on a security camera feed. He hacked in.

Someone was crouched behind the tram.

He concentrated and had the camera zoom in.

The someone was… stealing fuel.

“Come on.” He and Fiika picked their way through the tram remnants. “Hello! I don’t want to startle you-” His boot slipped on something oily and Theron found himself on the floor, a pipe digging uncomfortably into his back. “Ooowwww.”

The person popped up from behind the tram. “No way, no damn way, you pieces of filth. This is my-”

“We’re from the Lady of Sorrows.” Fiika held up her hands in a gesture of peace. “We came here to meet Firebrand. Are you the one who’s been operating against Zakuul for years?”

The figure moved into the light. Theron climbed to his feet, minding the oil spill. The short woman was a Rattataki, barely five feet tall and looking ready to shoot the pair of them on sight.

She crossed her arms. “Firebrand’s what the locals call me to brighten their sad little lives. And you’re what…” She barely glanced at Theron before focusing on Fiika. Recognition flashed in her eyes. “One of the scary outlanders?”

Fiika still had her hands up. “So you’ve heard about that.”

Firebrand snorted. “You and your Jedi friend were in the news after ruining the droid factory.” Her smile flickered. “Should’ve been my target, but you outlanders had to escape with a splash.”

Theron didn’t like her tone. His implant was still connected with the security camera. If any of Firebrand’s friends came, he’d know.

Fiika didn’t look threatened, but the stiffness of her shoulders gave her away. She was ready to spring away at the drop of a pin. She wasn’t going to make a move.

He cleared his throat. “We need your help against Zakuul.”

“No.” Firebrand didn’t even bat an eye.

“I know you weren’t expecting this. But we’re not just walking away.” Theron crossed his arms stubbornly. He wasn’t going anywhere. The Alliance needed everyone they could get, and if he could convince her to join…

Firebrand gave them both an irritated grimace. “Okay, look. I’m in the middle of something big. You want to tag along, we can talk. Only one of you, thought. Whoever’s a decent shot.”

Fiika nodded. “Okay. You can explain on the move to me.” She looked over at Theron. “I’ll go.”

“Then I’ll leave you to it. There’s that contact I need to meet.” He nodded and stepped carefully through the debris, watching for more oil.

* * *

 

Pattik didn’t swear. Not particularly, at least. His preferred method to release any frustration or anger was in lightsaber sparring.

And that was the source of his frustration.

It just kept building up, getting worse every time he tried to spin and his back wouldn’t bend, up until-

“BLAST!”

Pattik took a deep breath, finding his center full of anger at his cybernetics and inability to fight. Another deep breath. The anger ebbed. Another. And another. Slowly the anger receded and he took up his starting stance.

The practice dummy was across the platform.

He broke into a sprint, built up the Force, and leapt. His feet hit the ground lightly. Pattik let his momentum carry him into a crouch, he slashed at the dummy’s holoprojected arm, and he spun-

“DAMN!”

His back didn’t twist like that anymore.

“Need help?”

He looked up at Senya. The Knight had lost her armor and was watching with a faintly amused smile. He shoved his anger at himself aside and nodded. “If you’re offering.”

“First, let’s move the dummy.”

* * *

 

“Keep an eye out for Skytroopers,” Firebrand warned.

Fiika glanced at the sky, knowing full well there were none. She’d been wary since they left the transport station. Her and Firebrand were probably on the list of Zakuul’s top ten most wanted.

“I’ve got to wire a jury-rigged ion grenade into the power junction. I mess up, we all fry. That blackout you and your Jedi friend caused shows the whole system’s vulnerable.” She looked up, a piece of wire clenched between her teeth and ion grenade in one hard. “You know about the Overwatch?”

“No.”

Firebrand pried open a panel on the junction with one hand. “Overwatch is where they run half the droids in the Spire,” she explained through her teeth. “Skytroopers, building crews, med units, you name it.”

Fiika watched in slight horror as Firebrand began to shove detonite into the junction. There was enough to blow the whole block, and if she kept forcing it into the nooks and crannies… there would be no more Firebrand or Fiika.

“We blow a couple junctions at once, Overwatch security goes down. Force fields, scanners… no power. We walk right in.” She dropped the ion grenade onto the detonite and secured it with engine tape.

_ I can’t believe we’re trying to recruit her. She- That’s not how you jury-rig an ion grenade! That’s just mindless dumping of explosives. _

Fiika pretended she wasn’t screaming on the inside. “The whole city runs on machines. If we interfere with the Overwatch controls, the Spire will practically shut down.”

Firebrand shut the junction door and stared up at the towers in disgust. “Yeah. These people… the droids do everything for them. Most of the locals sit around drooling while their tech feeds and protects them. We’re going to show them real life for a day or two. No droids. Just until it’s fixed.”

_ With the amount of detonite in there, it’s not going to be fixed for a while. _

“The plan might work, but what’s the goal? If the damage gets repaired, all you’re doing is causing chaos.”

“Look, you came to me.” Firebrand gave her a lopsided grin. “You don’t like my methods, I don’t really care. But I’ll throw in a bonus. Tayvor Slen, the Overwater administrator. The data he needs to run those droids is pretty much a blueprint for the city.” The grin away. “You ever plan to attack here, you’ll need that data. Defense, vulnerabilities, everything. So we get inside, we both get something good.”

_ Emperor’s underwear. That’ll be perfect- _

_ Wait. _

Fiika kept her face impassive. “This Tayvor Slen. Is he another Knight of Zakuul?” She couldn’t take one out on her own, and even with Firebrand… those weren’t odds she wanted to take.

She snorted. “Nah. Pierce of work, but no powers. I plan on shooting him in the head. Come on, we better get to the next junction- Kriff.”

Fiika looked up and saw Skytroopers headed their way. “Run.”

* * *

 

Just a simple retrieval mission, Lana had said. Show up, get the Findsman, and go, she’d said. It’ll be quick and you can explore Zakuul, she’d said.

She’d made it sound like it was as easy as flatcake.

It.

Was.

Not.

“OH HELL!” Theron skidded down an alley and hung a right, nearly tripping over a rusted-out speeder.

He didn’t even know where he was anymore. 

One of the goons behind him tripped over the speeder and cursed Izak.

Bad thing for whoever Izak was. Probably one of the Zakuulan gods. He hadn’t gotten that far into his research yet, between building the Alliance base and working on getting contacts, those reports and the-

His implant lit up his vision.

Oh, how fantastic, someone had brought a modified rocket launcher to the chase. And had just fired it at him.

He mentally started a hack on the rocket’s controls and kept hauling ass further into the shadowed undercity. 

_ Any second now- _

_ Yes! _

Theron slid to a stop and whirled, programming the rocket to return to it’s launcher. The pair of goons behind him saw it coming, bellowed, and sprinted back the way they’d come. He leaned against the wall and caught his breath. Yuun the Findsman had given him a list of locations to retrieve some parts for a… a… Theron had decided to not ask.

And if all the parts were in nasty places like this...

Yeah.

Easy as flatcake.

The rocket exploded in the distance.

As if.

* * *

 

“Left foot here.” Senya tapped the red marker with the end of her lightsaber pike. “And you force-push anyone to your right away. Then turn.” She demonstrated the move. “Like so. It shouldn’t aggravate your back.”

Pattik gathered himself and force-leapt onto the marker, mimed force-pushing something away, and whirled to his left.

“Good.” She nodded, thoughtful. “How are your with just using sheer force?”

“Adequate.”

Senya’s eyebrow climbed upward. “Care to give a shorter answer?”

Pattik smiled faintly. “I might be built like a bantha, but it was my speed and flexibility that surprised my enemies, not my strength. They were expecting me to just beat them into dust with one swing.”

“Do it.” She flicked on her pike.

“Pardon me?”

“Beat me into dust. Show me your strength.” The Knight’s eyes glittered with the challenge. “I dare you.”

Pattik barreled at her, lightsaber flaring to life.

She parried his attack, paying particularly little attention to his lightsaber and instead watching his form. Senya casually dodged his lunge forward and whacked his leg with her pike. “Mind your new vulnerabilities.”

He danced to the right and threw the Force at her.

She casually threw up a Force barrier and blocked it.

_ How are these Knights trained? _

Pattik felt like he was a padawan again, being taught the basics. He knew Fiika had lost her patience the week previously and charged Senya in anger… Would the Knight be expecting him to charge her?

Senya cartwheeled away from him.

Right next to the red marker. She’d been planning this.

Pattik leapt at her, didn’t bother the charade of using the Force, and threw every ounce of strength into his riposte.

She slid back a foot. “Better.” Her smile was glowing blue from her blade.

He advanced, keeping every jab and swing as powerful as he could, pushing Senya back towards the training dummy. A bead of sweat slid down her nose. She was still grinning fiercely, blocking his feints and attacks with blazing speed.

Pattik started building up the Force, throwing it behind his lightsaber when his arms began to tire.

She flicked her fingers.

The Force surged.

He was forced to choose between beating her back or stopping the training dummy now flying at him. He couldn’t use the Force, or his barrage would end, yet if he stopped the dummy-

Pattik turned, kicked out, mindful of keeping his back straight, and kicked the dummy to the side.

Then Senya’s lightsaber was glowing at his throat.

“Well done.” She wiped away the sweat. “That was refreshing.”

He tucked his lightsaber away on his belt, missed the clip, and remembered it wasn’t his lightsaber from before. The clip was on the other side. “Better?”

Senya nodded and righted the dummy with a flick of her hand. “It’s going to take practice. You’ll need to work on your stamina and spar with more than just me. But yes, it was better. Now,” she continued. “Let’s work on another move. I hope you’re not tired.”

“No.”

* * *

 

_ STOP DOING THAT OR YOU’LL BLOW US UP! _

Fiika was on the verge of screaming at Firebrand that pushing as much detonite into a power junction as possible was somewhere in the top five of stupidest things to do. Detonite only needed a spark to go off. And power junctions were a literal hive of electricity.

She’d stopped watching the anarchist after the fourth stick had been shoved into the junction, instead studying the Zakuulan skyline.

_ ‘Peaceful, isn’t it?’ Valkorian asked. _

_ Don’t you even start. _

_ He chuckled. _

And thankfully remained silent.

“Okay, we’re set, but I’ve got to stick around a minute.”

_ Should I count seconds? I want to. _

Firebrand flicked up her coat collar and headed towards the far end of the catwalks. “Supposed to meet a contact.”

Fiika went after her, thankfully away from the detonite-filled junction. “What kind of contact?” she asked suspiciously.

“A local.” Firebrand waved her towards a pile of empty droid power cells and crates of replacement wiring. “Won’t take long, but get too close and you’ll scare her off.”

She debated just refusing, but that’d take up time, and the sooner she was away from the detonite, the better. Fiika stalked over to the crates and plunked down behind one, angling herself between two canisters to watch the meet.

_ Someone has to be crazy enough to work with Firebrand. Who? _

The answer came in the form of a nervous teenage girl, scars maring her face. They were deep enough that they would’ve hurt, but not deep enough to truly hide her beauty. Her hair was chopped short, her clothes a poor attempt at looking like she belonged in the undercity.

Even from aways back, Fiika could see how clean her coat was, and the quality of her boots. No Breaktown or undercity rat would have bootshine on.

“Firebrand?” The girl’s voice warbled. “Everything’s ready. I’ve got the Overwatch data, and the rest…” She faltered and glanced at her boots.

_ What did you do? _

Fiika leaned forward carefully. The kid was ashamed of something.

“The rest is done, too.”

Firebrand patted her scarred cheek. “Good girl. Who says you can’t get your hands dirty?”

The girl handed over a datacard. “Listen, the others…” She went back to inspecting her boots. “They’re out.” She looked up worried. “They won’t say anything, I swear, but they’re getting their scars fixed-”

_ Hang on, you can get your scars healed? Zakuul has that? _

“-It’s not fun anymore.” The girl was staring at Firebrand in fear.

There was a bad feeling in the pit of Fiika’s stomach.

Firebrand shrugged. “Yeah, well, they’re morons. We’ve got each other.” Her tone was dangerously casual.

“I need to go.” The girl took a step back.

“Don’t forget.” Firebrand grabbed her arm. “You cause me problems, and those scars can get deeper.” She shoved the girl towards the service corridor.

Fiika sat there amongst the empty power cells, too many emotions all jumbled up in an unfortunately confusing mixture. Outrage and fury won out as the anarchist joined her.

“Idiots and cowards,” Firebrand spat. She sat down on one of the crates. “Not a spine among any of them.”

_ You carved her face open. You- Not just her. The others, she said they had scars too. You foul bitch. _

Fiika shoved her fury down into a white-hot ball in the pit of her stomach. “You’d be surprised,” she spat. “I’ve seen Zakuulans fight as well as anyone. Knights. Soldiers. Enemies and allies.”

Senya and Koth.

Firebrand shrugged. “Maybe. But I’m not talking about Knights and soldiers. I’ve picked up a few fans over the years. That girl?” She smirked. “Daughter of the Overwatch Administrator.”

_ I’ll bet you’re his favorite person. _

She knew the answer. Fear. Firebrand had used fear to keep her working for her. Maybe it started out as something else, but it wasn’t anymore. She feigned curiosity despite her disgust at Firebrand’s methods, and asked the question. “Why is she helping you?”

“Same reason they all did.” Firebrand cracked open her canteen and sipped from it. “They’re all sheltered kids and rebellion is taboo. They don’t really want Zakuul overthrown.” She flashed a smile at Fiika. “But almost getting blown up? Getting a few scars before the droids can make them pretty again? Oh, that’s a mark of pride.”

_ No it isn’t. Not when you gave them those scars. _

“That girl said the others were out. They were getting their scars fixed.”

Firebrand’s grin slipped off her face. It was replaced with displeasure. “Yeah, apparently some outlanders turned up and soured my pals on rebellion. Hits too close to home now.” She tucked her canteen away. “One more power conduit. Then the show starts.”

Fiika followed her through the maze of catwalks.

_ We’ll see if the Alliance really wants you. _

* * *

 

“I did  _ not _ -”

Lana wanted to bite her tongue and roar at the two soldiers. Admiral Aygo was dealing with the other three from the Republic, and the pair of Imperial marines in front of her were furious.

“That pub scum said we was-”

“Quiet,” Lana hissed.

The two soldiers fell silent, blood draining from their faces.

She needed to be diplomatic, fair, and she needed this to be done ten minutes ago.

“This is an alliance. I don’t particularly care what the Republic medics called you. We are all here with a common goal to defeat Zakuul’s Emperor, and infighing is not going to give us solutions.” She knew they’d hate the punishment. “Both of you are on kitchen cleaning duty for the rest of the week. With the Republic soldiers.”

The pair of Imp soldiers didn’t even blink.

“Go.”

They marched out of her office in perfect form.

_ Force help us. If we can’t even work together- _

Where did she put that form… She needed Theron to sign it.

Speaking of Theron, he ought to have checked in by now-

Lana leaned back in her chair and pinched the bridge of her nose.

It was going to be a long week.

* * *

 

Something was leaking above him.

He really  _ really  _ hated sewers.

And the Findsman, naturally, had specified some sort mechanical thing that could only be found in the sewers.

A wingmaw came screeching at him.

Theron raised his blasters-

And steam shot out of a valve and hit the wingmaw straight on.

Maybe there was one upside to the sewers.

He stepped in something slimy.

Or not.

* * *

 

Breaktown had not improved since the last time she’d been there with Senya. The Heralds of Zildrog’s bile-green graffiti was still over any arguably clean wall, and the stench was just as awful, if not worse. 

Fiika didn’t dare watch Firebrand put the explosives into the junction. She was saving herself from the anxiety over being blown up. Instead she leaned outside the facility, arms crossed and on watch for Skytroopers.

So far only some shadowy figure had run past in the distance.

Otherwise it was eerily quiet, only the distance sounds of Breaktown going about it’s dangerous existence. Sometimes an engine would backfire, or an inhuman cry would echo. Nothing near her. Nothing close enough to be deemed a threat.

“We’re rigged for the Overwatch, but we have to stop by my apartment first.” Firebrand paused. “Okay, look.”

Fiika glanced over at her. “Hm?”

“You seem too smart to not have an angle. You tell me what you’re really after, and I’ll tell you why I’m really on Zakuul.”

“I don’t particularly care why you’re on Zakuul.”

“It’s a good story.”

Fiika was not one to turn down any information, but trusting Firebrand to tell the truth… “I have no secret agenda. Zakuul is a threat to everything, and no one but the Alliance is in a position to stop it.” Worse option would be Firebrand lying through her teeth, but even then there would be information to gather on what sort of liar she was.

Firebrand snorted. “Totally selfless, huh?” She started down an alley, back towards the tram station. “So the reason I’m here? Revenge. Zakuul messed things up for me. I had a lot going on, and life fell apart. I got by. I always get by.” She paused and glanced down an alley before continuing. “Owned a club, did some Exchange work. But it wasn’t the same as before. Eventually I figured ‘you hit me, I hit back.’”

_ You must’ve been fun on the local playground. _

“I came to Zakuul to wave the Anarchist flag, like way back before.”

Fiika stepped around a burned-out droid frame, half caring about Firebrand’s story, half watching for any trouble. “The Zakuulans seem very dedicated to their emperors. You can’t be finding much traction.”

The glare from Firebrand could have melted durasteel. “Ha ha. Problem is, these people? Nothing hurts them. Blow up a building, droids rebuild. Cut up a scumwad, droids heal him. Even you killing their emperor just made them sniffle. They’ve barely got laws, but it’s not anarchy if nothing matters. It’s just a sugar rus-”

Fiika threw out an arm to stop her. “You hear that?”

Metallic footsteps were about a block away, marching.

“Skytroopers.” Firebrand motioned for them to go down a tiny… it was too small to be an alley, but wide enough for them to comfortably walk through single-file. “Gotta move. Might be more droids up ahead. You seem up for the challenge,”

_ I am, but I would prefer to not draw the attention of Arcann and his droid army. _

_ Yet. _

* * *

 

Theron was starting to really hate the scavenger hunt all over the Spire.

One of the things, and he wasn’t sure what it was and he didn’t want to know, was leaking a trail of grease behind him as he carried around.

It was too big for his pockets, too small to comfortably carry with both hands, so he had it clutched tightly in one arm. It was not working.

Oil was spilled all over his sleeve and down his coat. He’d made the terrible mistake of setting the blasted thing down on the tram, and it’d left a stain on the seat. 

And the trams deserved their own rant. Those things were terrible. He’d been on Corellia countless times, and no matter how technologically advanced Zakuul was, it’s tram system was infinitely superior. Corellia’s tram seats weren’t too cushy, the air wasn’t filtered with a flowery freshener. Zakuul’s tram made him feel like he was in a waiting room to see a doctor, air too sickly sweet and him sinking into the cushions.

Trams should not be designed where anyone would want to lean back and take a nap. Not that he had… but the option shouldn’t even be available.

A family of four got on, took one look of him in the back corner with his… technological things, and went into a different car.

Great.

Theron probably looked as bad as he smelled. Blasted sewers. And to think he’d started out thinking he was going to eventually like Zakuul.

Hopefully Fiika was having better luck than him with Firebrand.

He’d gotten a picture of her and had a facial recognition scan running in the background of his implant. If… and it was a big if, probably a planet-sized if, if he could find her, figure out who she had been before Firebrand, what she dealt in, contacts. It wouldn’t hurt to know who they were dealing with.

Theron shifted in his seat and-

One of the dang things he’d gotten slipped and got more oil all over the seats.

Great.

* * *

 

He was a fast learner, certainly.

Senya whirled and blocked his swing, using the momentum to flip over him and face his back. She saw his legs tense with the instinct to drop into a spinning crouch, but he didn’t.

Good, her training was helping him learn a new form.

Instead the Jedi sprinted forward. He gathered the force about him and pushed off the back wall of the hangar, soaring over her in a graceful arc, back straight. Pattik landed softly with the Force, in the defensive position she’d shown him.

“Now one hand!” She shot at him, watching his free hand.

No one needed both hands to hold a lightsaber, unless they were horribly outnumbered or weak in the arms. He in particular did not. If this sparring had taught her anything, his muscle size was not simply for show.

Pattik had the raw power to push her back a few feet.

And the strength in the Force to accompany it.

Senya leaned back and casually dodged a jab. “Your other hand?”

“What about it?” Pattik met her parry and threw a wall of the Force at her.

Her bootsoles slid on the duracrete. “Perfect.” Their lightsabers met in a flash of white and sweat slid down the back of her neck. He was starting to tire. She was used to sparring for hours on end. He’d been frozen in carbonite for years and then grievously wounded. So Senya blocked his lunge forward and spun closer, deactivated her pike, and rapped his knuckles with the heavy top.

Pattik cursed as he dropped his lightsaber.

“That’s all for today. We ought to keep practicing.”

He nodded. “Thank you.” The Jedi collected his lightsaber and headed towards the corridor at the back.

Senya shook out her limbs and took up an attack pose, facing the unfortunate training dummy. Her pike would remain deactivated, but she couldn’t promise the dummy would survive.

Slowly she shifted her weight to her front leg, easing her other into a different position. Ever so slightly she increased her speed, working through each move faster and faster until her body knew what she was going to do before she even thought it.

A deep duck, boot kicking up to disarm an imaginary foe.

She swept her pike around, fingers spinning it until it was nigh impossible to see, unless an observer had a particularly sharp eye. Senya snapped it still with a flick of her wrist.

The dummy’s unpadded neck cracked.

_ Crack. _

_ His pain overwhelmed the Force. Senya wanted to raise her hand, stop the training, but he was learning. This time the blow was to Arcann’s forearm, not his ribs. _

_ Her son picked up the wooden staff again and stood stubbornly in the center of the arena, bruise already formed on his forehead, but not from any blow. He and Thexan had taken a tumble down the stairs yesterday. “Come on!” _

_ The Knight glanced at Senya. _

_ She nodded. _

_ And the Knight jumped at her boy. _

_ Arcann, all of seven, met the blow and used his size against the Knight, somersaulting between his legs and running towards the arena wall. He pulled the Force about him and kicked off, spinning in mid-air to come right back at the Knight. _

_ Senya watched the Knight do the same move, swinging his own pole like a club to knock Arcann out of the air. Again. It’d be the fifth time. _

_ But instead Arcann was ready for the move, and caught the staff with his own. He used the momentum to land behind the Knight and whack his knees. _

_ The Knight fell and Arcann set his staff on his neck. He’d won. _

_ “Look, he did it, he did it!” Vaylin bounced next to her, toy bear in hand. “He did it!” _

_ “Yes. He did.” Senya smiled proudly down at him and nodded. “Well done, Arcann!” _

_ Arcann grinned back up her, then his head turned to look up at the viewbox opposite Senya. Valkorian nodded down, smiling faintly. _

_ “Now’s it’s ThFexan. An’ he’s goin’ to win too, right?” Vaylin tugged on her sleeve. “Right, Mother?” _

Senya shook her head. The memory had come from nowhere. She could recall it, Thexan leaning over her shoulder, standing on the back of her chair, watching his twin. Vaylin’s attention torn between her wooden toy bear and watching her older brother. Valkorian deep in his work but still making the effort to watch his son practice.

It had to have been a few years before everything crumbled.

With a start, Senya realized she’d kept attacking the dummy. It’s head was lobbed off, an arm missing its padding, the leg below it dented.

She needed a break.

Senya headed towards her quarters, the memory of her daughter’s voice in her ears.

_ “Right Mother? Arcann’s going to win.” _

* * *

 

Fiika was getting overly tired of Firebrand’s… everything. Anarchy here, anarchy there, poorly made bombs and detonite sticks haphazardly shoved into power junctions.

She’d been expecting Firebrand’s apartment to be a literal dump. A tiny little two-or-three room dingy place in the undercity, stacks of different weapons, tools, and equipment piled into the corners, maybe a little desk with a computer terminal. Kitchen that smelled worse than Breaktown, it’s own distinctive mold colony starting up in the conservator.

Her expectations had been for the apartment to match the occupant.

Instead it was a luxury, high-end, deluxe-comfort suite, complete with a protocol droid painted to look like a butler.

A transparisteel-glass enclosed room housed a hot tub, with jungle plants as decor. The kitchen was spotless, a little cake stand of goodies on display, all covered in frosting and sprinkles. And the lounge.

It had a vidscreen the size of the wall.

Maybe anarchy paid better than Fiika had assumed. It was all modern open-plan living, the finest material for the couches, and the cake stand looked like it was made from rare crystal.

Everything was bloody expensive.

“This is it.” Firebrand held out her arms and waltz into her apartment. “My fans bought the furniture.”

_ I bet they did. Before or after you cut their faces open, I wonder? _

Fiika smiled politely, an unimpressed look plastered on. “It’s lovely.”

“Let me show you something.” Firebrand picked up a datapad lying on a side table. She programmed the vidscreen on and scrolled to a saved recording.

A woman, red hair in a bun, lines on her face, hugged herself, clearly still in the throes of adrenaline and fear. “You can see the Vankaysar Bridge burning from here.” The recorder panned to flaming remnants of what Fiika assumed was the bridge. “No one’s saying what happened, but I… I haven’t seen anything like it.”

Firebrand scrolled to the next recording.

A boy, barely at the tail of his teens. He was obviously holding the recorder. “My father will kill me of he knows I’m recording this. Firebrand struck again. The Spaceport this time. I was so afraid, but i’ve never felt a rush like that before. Thank Valkorian the droids got me to safety.”

_ Why are you showing me your trophies? You’re frightening innocents for your own fun. _

“Gray market holos. They used to trade them, like it was a game.” Firebrand selected another recording. “Now watch this.”

It was a girl, about fifteen, tears down her cheeks and breathing unevenly. She was terrified. “The outlanders are back. We were lucky they only caused a blackout, but what about next time? Zakuul should be safe. It’s always been safe. What happens now?”

Fiika kept her anger buried. It’d been Vaylin who’d caused the power outage, but the terror the citizens felt… It was going to be a messy war with Arcann.

Firebrand flicked off the vidscreen. “Tone’s a little different on that one, huh? Suddenly blowing up a building matters.”

“They’re awed by Firebrand, but they fear outlanders.”

“Mostly just you and your Jedi pals. You guys come back to Zakuul, and you do it by blowing up a building and humiliating me.”

_ If you’re going to try and kill me for that- _

_ Actually, your apartment would be the perfect place to do so. Shite. _

Fiika shifted her weight and adjusted her short cloak. She had to stay calm and let Firebrand make the first move. “Humiliated? You?”

That got a sarcastic laugh. “You’ve got nerve.” Firebrand gestured to the kitchen table. “Power junctions are set. Overwatch force fields cycle in an hour. Let’s talk tactics. I don’t want to die before we even reach central command.” She splayed her hands out over the dining table. “Everything goes down in the droid control center. You grab your data, I blow the machinery. And hopefully shoot the administrator.”

Fiika sat down on the opposite side of the table. “You’re certain the data’s complete? The full city schematics?”

“Every droid in the city runs on those specs. Your Alliance ever go to war with the Spire, that’s your winning card.” Fireband tapped her index finger thoughtfully. “Now, about our escape.” 

* * *

 

He had the four things for the Findsman. Four leaking, beeping, or in one disgusting case, smelly technological things.

All the four things were lovingly connected to a databank by the Gand called Yuun, the databank was turned on, made some noises that satisfied Yuun, and they’d left the service tunnels of the undercity trams.

It was an experience Theron did not to repeat.

Ever.

He showed Yuun the ship and hung back outside, tapping his fingers on his pistols. He hadn’t heard from Fiika in a while. Not that she couldn’t handle herself with Firebrand… he just didn’t trust Firebrand.

Theron pulled out his comm and put in a call to her.

It rang. And rang.

_ C’mon Spook, pick up, pick up. Piiiiiiick uuuuup- _

“Brilliant, I was just about to call you.” Fiika’s voice came out in a burst of static. “I hope you’ve found your contact. Here’s the plan.”

Theron sighed and listened.

He had a bad feeling about it.

* * *

 

Firebrand’s chrono chimed. “It’s time.”

Fiika looked up as she left the table to look out one of the massive windows, trigger in hand.

“Step one: blow the junctions!” She raised the trigger and pressed her thumb down on the button. And nothing happened.

Fiika got up to look out the window.

The Spire looked fine-

Plumes of smoke began leaking out of ventilation ducts.

Firebrand grinned and patted her shoulder. “Get ready to shoot droids, a few Knights… whatever Zakuul has to show.” She nodded towards the attached garage. “Let’s go show these idiots who’s boss.”

* * *

 

Fiika hated, no,  _ loathed _ being in any sort of private transport that she herself wasn’t piloting. And she loathed pilots who drove like they had just learned from a half-blind drunk. Especially when they took utterly stupid risks because their egos were larger than their brains.

There was reasonable piloting. And then there was Fireband.

“BLOODY HELL!” Fiika ducked to avoid decapitation-by-stabilizer-fin.

“Relax, it’s evasive maneuvers in case any traffic cams pick us up.”

Fiika shoved her fury down. “NO THIS ISN’T. I WAS A DAMNED PILOT IN THE IMPERIAL NAVY. THIS ISN’T EVASIVE. THIS IS JACK-ASSERY-  _ OYE! _ ” 

Firebrand was cackling as she piloted loops around a transport, giving it a one-finger salute. “I did warn you to buckle up.”

_ She’s mad. She’s completely mad. _

The speeder groaned in protest as Firebrand sent it screaming upwards, perfectly vertical. The engine was not made for an assent at this angle, nor at this speed-

Fiika unconsciously gripped her liquid cable launcher. If the engine failed, she could survive. Furious and dangling out in the open, right where Arcann and his skytroopers could find her, but still surviving.

The speeder shot past a landing pad, arched far more gracefully that Fiika thought possible, and landed heavily atop a pile of shipping containers.

Firebrand shot out of the pilots seat. “C’mon, out, we’re blowin’ her up!” 

Fiika threw off the safety harness and sprinted away, grimacing as Firebrand lobbed a thermal grenade at the speeder. She brought her borrowed assault rifle around, crouched down behind a crate, and started picking off guards outside the entrance.

“We don’t have time for that.” Firebrand hauled her up and aimed a cartridge launcher at the guards. She fired, and an electric net exploded out in mid-air.

The guards didn’t have a chance.

“Let’s go.”

Fiika ran after Firebrand, rifle up.

_ ‘Life is as empty without terror as without love.’ _

_ You’d know, wouldn’t you? _

_ Valkorian chuckled. ‘I would permit this creature’s existence from my throne. She cannot truly threaten perfection, but only enhance it.’ His tone turned thoughtful. ‘But though chaos can be beautiful… it cannot last.’ _

_ Ah, much like your ability to shut up. It’s beautiful but can’t bloody last! _

Fiika got the distinct impression that her uninvited guest was shaking his head.

“You okay?” Firebrand squinted at her. “You just zoned out.”

“It’s a long story. Shouldn’t happen again.”

“Better not. I don’t wanna die because you can’t focus.” Firebrand kicked open a stairwell.

Fiika gritted her teeth at the blaring alarm. Going up the stairs wasn’t going to be pleasant. She aimed her rifle at an alarm box, fired, and cursed as the deafening sound didn’t change. It couldn’t be fixed by shooting things. She followed Firebrand up the stairs.

They burst into offices, their occupants cowering under desks.

Firebrand cackled as she sprinted past them. “They’re cowards!”

Fiika stayed silent, sweeping the surroundings for Skytroopers or Overwatch agents. It was suspiciously clear. She didn’t like it. “Something’s not right,” she said, getting into the lift beside Firebrand.

“Yeah? We’ll be fine.” Firebrand hit a button on the lift and they soared upward.

Fiika looked out the glass wall, up towards the Spire stretching past the clouds and into space. Arcann was probably up there, thinking of ways to capture her and to kill his father. She got the sense he was probably doing that every day. Bit obsessive, perhaps. With a bit of luck, he didn’t even know they were in his Overwatch command center.

The lift doors opened.

The command center cubicles were empty, the hallways were empty, the main command office was empty.

Fiika slung her rifle back behind her and kept her hands resting on her daggers. There was a gut feeling that something was wrong, and then there was knowing something was wrong. This was the latter. Something was profoundly wrong about this, and her nerves were on edge.

Regardless, she joined Firebrand at the main consoles and pulled in a data card. “Theron, do you read me?”

Her comm crackled. “The data’s coming through. Complete schematics for every building in the Spire.”

Something splashed next to her. Fiika whirled, daggers drawn, and sighed. Firebrand was dumping what looked and smelled like the fuel she’d stolen from the crashed tram onto the other main console. There was also more detonite, thankfully not shoved gracelessly anywhere.

“I’ve got enough bombs here to slag the droid controls. Fancy automated city won’t be automated anymore.”

Fiika turned back to the console. The download was going quicker than-

“The damage can be repaired, but I’m disappointed, Kaliyo.”

She sighed. Naturally it was a trap. Fiika slowly turned around, taking in the man approaching them.

He was flanked by Skytroopers, an eyepatch over one eye, had the muscle mass of a man who did a heavy workout daily, and he moved with the ease of a man trained to fight. He reminded Fiika of the old training officers at the Intelligence Academy.

Fiika kept her attention on him. “Who’s Kaliyo?”

“Me.” Firebrand gave the man a sunny smile. “Tayvor! I was worried you ran away.”

_ So your name is Kaliyo. Or at least, that’s another alias. _

Tayvor the Overwatch commander looked pained. “You should have turned yourself in to the Skytroopers. I can’t protect you from this. Not your scheme, nor allying with this outlander.”

Kaliyo or Firebrand, whatever her name was, crossed her arms, still smiling. “Actually, this outlander came to ally with me. Outlander, meet Overwatch Administrator Tayvor Slen.”

“Nice to meet you.” Fiika nodded politely. “Fiika Allos, Infiltration and Deception Specialist of the Alliance.”

Slen didn’t seem to hear her. He was focused on Firebrand. “I gave you friendship, a home, a purpose.” Anger flickered in his eyes. “You mock me.”

The console dinged softly behind her. The data transfer was complete. Fiika wanted to go. Spending more time with Slen would just give Skytroopers and Knights more time to set up a trap. “You’re wounded ego is not what should concern you. Not while I’m standing here.” She spun the daggers in her hand, eyeing the Skytroopers.

_ Let’s make this quick. _

Slen turned to her. “You can’t trust her, outlander.”

Firebrand snorted. “Tayvor convinced me to sell out. Like I said before, when I saw I couldn’t hurt anyone, I got lazy. He offered me a pretty cage.” Her voice got sickly sweet. “Nice house, free pass from the Skytroopers, I could bomb little targets and he’d make sure no one got killed.”

Fiika kept her gaze on Slen. “You sponsored her.”

“It was an outlet for our people’s darker urges. A drop of poison to vaccinate against the disease of unrest.”

She tapped her fingers on her dagger handles. “And how’s that worked out?”

Slen scowled. “Kaliyo-”

“You were also really into me.” Firebrand’s smile turned dark. “Then I remembered comfort isn’t everything.”

Slen looked livid. “She is betrayal personified. Even you, outlander, deserve better.” He drew a pair a pistols. “I will execute you both, and make amends for my errors. Izak take you.”

And he opened fire.

Fiika threw both her daggers at the Skytroopers to his left. They were buried up to the hilt in the power cores.

Firebrand cackled as she ducked down behind a console, priming a thermal grenade.

Slen was focusing all his firepower on Firebrand, leaving the Skytroopers to Fiika, which worked particularly well in her favor.

The remaining Skytroopers were following Slen’s lead.

Fiika pulled another pair of daggers, these smaller, from her boots and sprinted at the droids. She slid between them, knives slashing at the exposed cables in their knee joints. A quick somersault, and she bounced back on her feet, slashing at more cords and joints.

A blaster bolt shot dangerously close to her ear.

She looked up.

Slen had turned one of his blasters onto her. He was firing at both of them.

“Damn.” Fiika dove behind a crate of- Oh, how lovely, explosives.

Slen drilled shots into the box.

“HEY TAYVOR!” Firebrand roared. Something clacked as it hit the floor.

Fiika risked a look around the crate-

It was the thermal grenade.

_ Shit. _

Fiika shot out from her cover and threw herself behind a desk, pulling her rifle around.

The grenade went off. Loudly. 

She felt the blast move through her in a wave of heat. The windows shattered, her ears were ringing, smoke filling the commander center. Wind tore through the window frames, clearing the smoke and carrying in the damp air.

Fiika peered out around the crate, coughing.

Firebrand looked unharmed, albiet sooty. She hopped over the console she’d taken cover behind. “You poor stupid, stupid man. You know your daughter me set up phase two?”

_ Phase two? _

Fiika shook her head, straining her ears to hear Firebrand over the ringing. “What phase two?”

Slen didn’t seem to hear Fiika. The man had been hit directly with the grenade. His eyepatch was still on, clinging to burned skin, his clothing charred and stuck to his armor. “What?” he rasped.

“We’re not just taking out droids for a day. I’ve got explosives planted all around the city. Roads, factories, security stations, news centers. This time, when everything burns?” Firebrand paused, eyes glittering. “No fire suppressor units. No medical droids. No Skytroopers stopping riots.” She knelt and poked Slen’s nose, smiling. “No one to stop it.”

“You never mentioned that!” Fiika bellowed. She tugged her small daggers out of their sheaths. Killing innocents, no. She wouldn’t let that happen, not for the Alliance nor ever.

Firebrand didn’t look up; she was still staring at Slen with disgust on her face. “Surprise! You get it now, Tayvor. You tried to use me. You all humiliated me. Now your happy city is going to hurt.” She shot Slen between the eyes.

“You’re talking about hundreds of lives!” Fiika grabbed Firebrand and threw her away from Slen. “They aren’t responsible for what you’ve been through!”

She gaped at Fiika, fire in her eyes. “These people stole your life and mine!” She charged Fiika, fists swinging. “I HAD IT GOOD! I DIDN’T SEE IT UNTIL IT WAS GONE.”

Fiika blocked a wild punch and gave Firebrand a returning one, landing the blow on her jaw.

“Bitch!” Firebrand brought her knee up and kicked out.

The air left her lungs. Fiika bellowed and surged forward, spinning around. She shoved her elbow under Firebrand’s ribs.

She fell to one knee. “Okay, okay.” She help up her hands. “I say we do this together.”

“No.”

“You blow the droid controls, I detonate the city. I want to do this with you, Allos. It’s not the same as shooting Arcann-”

“No!”

Firebrand looked up sharply. “Someone hits you, you hit back!”

Fiika tried to wrestle the detonator away from her. “THEY DIDN’T HIT YOU. NO ONE DID! IT WAS JUST BAD LUCK!”

She wasn’t giving up the detonator. “NOTHING AFFECTS THEM! THEY HURT THE GALAXY! THEY DON’T KNOW PAIN!’

Fiika twisted Firebrand’s arm, feeling the socket pop.

She screamed.

Fiika grabbed the detonator. “You’re doing this alone. Kill hundreds, and the Alliance won’t welcome you. We don’t stand for the slaughter of innocents.”

Firebrand spat. “Fine. We do it your way. But I’m still taking down the droids.” 

Fiika handed her the detonator, rifle at the ready lest she try anything.

Firebrand pressed the trigger.

The lights in the broken Skytroopers dimmed.

Fiika offered Firebrand a hand up. “I can fix your shoulder once we’re safe. Ready?”

“Yeah.” She squinted, looking out at the approaching dropships, filled with Knights. “Let’s go before half of Zakuul shows up.”

They turned and walked to the edge of the blown-out windows.

* * *

 

The approaching dropships had him nervous.

“C’mon, Fiika…”

Yuun was silent, buckled in safely and politely watching their chances of escape get smaller and smaller.

Two figures appeared out of the blown windows and started rappelling down the side of the tower. Fiika and Firebrand.

He opened the emergency escape hatch and they tumbled in. Fiika scrambled to her feet and took the controls.

“Let’s show these knobheads who’s boss.” She threw the engines in reverse and Firebrand swore, something about her shoulder. “Theron, guns.” Fiika spun the ship around gracefully, evading the fire from the dropships. “We just need to clear the clouds then we’re good for lightspeed.”

He pulled down the gunner periscope and toggled the controls. “Come and get it,” he muttered.

The dropships couldn’t keep up with the tiny transport, nor match the cannons. They peeled away.

“They’re gone.”

“So are we.” Fiika threw a switch and the transport jumped to hyperspace. “We’re safe.”

* * *

 

“Took a look at that data you stole. A schematic of the Spire is gonna come in handy.” Theron threw a switch and started up the landing sequence for the transport. Behind him, Kaliyo, also known as Firebrand, was bemoaning her no-longer-dislocated shoulder.

The ship landed softly in the hangar. Fiika lowered the ramp, and Kaliyo and Yuun left.

“Hey, Fiiks.”

“Hm?” She glanced at him as she started powering down the ship computer.

“So. Kaliyo. She knows her stuff. We keeping her?” Theron watched her.

Fiika sighed, a dark look on her face. “I can work with her, and I can’t deny that her knowledge about Zakuul can be useful. But be very careful around her. And be ready to cut her loose. I don’t like her all that much. Her methods…” She shook her head. “Let’s keep her. For now.”

Theron nodded. “I understood.” He looked down the exit ramp at the hangar. “I’ll get her a bunk and add her to the watch list.”

“You?” Fiika joined him. “That’s my- Oh.”

Koth was waiting in the hangar for them.

“See you later, Fiiks.” Theron headed towards the war room.

* * *

 

Fiika tugged on her bun, getting a couple strands of hair to fall out and frame her face. “How long have you been waiting?”

He shrugged. “Since you entered Odessen’s atmosphere.” A smile twitched on his lips. “Glad you made it back.”

Fiika grinned. “Thanks to my piloting skills. You should let me have a go at the Gravestone.”

“My ship? I saw how you landed that transport.”

She mocked outrage. “There was nothing wrong with that landing.”

Koth was smiling. “Nor anything right.”

“Excuse me, that was a perfect landing, if I do say so myself. Would’ve made the Navy proud.” Fiika crossed her arms.

He was enjoying this, that was obvious. “I guess the Imperial Navy has low standards.” Koth was leaning in closer, smirking.

Fiika tucked her flyaways behind her ear. “Their standards are very high.” She let her eyes flick down to his lips.

“Uh-huh.”

She pursed her lips playfully. The setting sun had him bathed in amber light, looking warm and inviting and heart-wrenchingly handsome. She swallowed the nerves working their way up her throat. “How about I show you how high the standards are?”

_ Emperor’s Underwear, that sounded terrible. Why can I flirt when it’s for a target but not when it’s someone rather nice? _

He didn’t seem to pick up the awkward wording, but got the intent. “Your quarters, or mine?”

“Oh, are you inviting me onto the Gravestone?” Fiika gestured to the gangway that led to his ship. “Careful, Koth, I might end up piloting.”

“I might be okay with that.” He grinned and followed after her.

* * *

 

_ “Oh, Arcann.” Mother sighed, looking at him with disappointment. “What happened?” _

_ Words were choking him. He- he- _

_ Arcann looked down at his hands and screamed. He was holding his lightsaber, and- _

_ Thexan. _

_ His twin lay at his feet, that terrible wound slicing through his belly. _

_ “Mother…” Arcann whispered. He turned back to her. “Mother, I… I didn’t mean to.” His eyes ached as tears started to spill. “Mother!” _

_ She was looking down at Thexan’s corpse. “Arcann, how could you?” She met his gaze, hurt. “I loved him. He was my boy.” _

_ “I didn’t mean to, Mother, I… I…” The lightsaber clattered to the floor. “I didn’t mean to.” _

_ “It should’ve been you.” She turned to him, fury in her eyes. “You’re already broken. Where’s your arm? You couldn’t even save yourself against a Jedi. Not a Knight. But some outlander Jedi.” Mother’s eyes flickered with embers. “And you hide behind that foolish mask. Thexan was strong where you were weak. And you killed him.” _

_ “Yes.” The word was ripped from his throat and Arcan found himself falling to his knees, howling in grief. “I’m sorry, Mother. I didn’t mean to. I- I- Mother, I’m so sorry.” _

_ “Sorry won’t bring him back.” _

Arcann woke up with tear stains on his pillow and his eyes feeling swollen. He sat up, summoning the glass of water he’d left on his dresser to him with the Force.

“Stop these nightmares, Father,” he growled, and took a sip.

He got the sense Father ignored him.

Arcann laid back down, on his non-cybernetic side, watching the fog collect into droplets on his window. He wouldn’t be able to go back asleep.

It would be another sleepless night.

* * *

 

“ _ You _ were the Lady of Sorrows?”

Lana was going to bang her head into her desk if Kaliyo kept asking SCORPIO that.

Yes, SCORPIO was the Lady of Sorrows. Yes, she still was. And she still was ten minutes later. And ten minutes after that.

Theron was watching her over his datapad. “You okay?”

“If she asks her one more time-” She raised a finger at him. “Stop smiling.”

“I’m not smiling.”

“Yes you are.”

Theron ducked his head back down, pretending to be fascinated with something on his datapad. “No I’m not.”

Pattik glanced up from his caf. “I think you are.”

Lana grumbled and went back to looking through her messages. “And where’s Fiika? She’s an early riser. She ought to have been in earlier- Do you know something? Because you’re smiling again!”

Theron covered his mouth with his hand. “I’m not saying anything.”

“Theron Jace Shan-”

The door to the main corridor opened and Senya stormed in, face bloodless.

Theron’s smile slipped off his face; Kaliyo and SCORPIO stopped talking. Something was wrong, very very wrong.

Lana could sense it in the Force.

The Knight switched on the vidscreens to the galactic news. Even with the images muted… Bombed skyscrapers, cities… everything was turned into rubble and destroyed as the Eternal Fleet bombarded the worlds. “Millions dead.” Senya had tears gliding down her cheeks. “Their blood is on our hands.”

_ No, not ours. _

“We didn’t destroy these worlds. Your children did.”

Senya’s pained look made Lana regret her harsh words.

Theron had a hand on his implant, the lights flickering as he scanned the Holonet. “The atrocities on those planets were committed to hurt the Alliance, but we’re not responsible for them.”

“What are you talking about?”

Lana looked up to see Fiika in the doorway, looking on at the vidscreens in horror.

Then it was like a switch was flipped. Her spine stiffened, a muscle twitched in her jaw. Gone was Fiika the grinning and playful person, here was Fiika the Agent. Her voice was low and dangerous. “What’s happened now?”

Senya was still transfixed on the devastation. “Warships from the Eternal Fleet bombarded five planets in a coordinated assault. The death toll is unimaginable. Whole cities. Leveled.” Her voice cracked.

Lana turned away, mind already working. “Arcann issued a statement saying these worlds were protecting us and their destruction was justice for our attacks on Zakuul. A lie, of course, but no one can prove it.”

Pattik looked carved from stone, silently observing.

Theron turned and took up a terminal at the war table. “Arcann’s desperate. He can’t find us so he’s taking the galaxy hostage.”

Fiika followed Theron’s lead and started pulling up miniature scaled versions of the city. “Arcann can’t afford to destroy any more planets without sending the rest over to our side. There won’t be another attack like this one.”

Lana could hear what Fiika didn’t say. There was no way to know that Arcann wouldn’t do it again.

It was just hope that he wouldn’t.

And Senya was having none of it. She whirled, anger flaring. “I’m sure that comes as great comfort to the survivors.”

Pattik shook his head. “We need to send our own message. Expose Arcann’s lies. Show people the truth.” He gazed down at the holographic cities being destroyed. “Let him destroy himself with this.”

“Propaganda wars are a quagmire. The louder we shout,the more he kills.” Theron’s eyes were vacant for a beat. “The public will turn against us.” His implant flashed, and he focused again. “No messages.”

Fiika had her arms crossed, lips pressed together so thinly that her scars were bright. “There’s only one way to stop this. Arcann wants to isolate us. Let him.” She nervously adjusted her uniform cap when she realized everyone was looking at her. “We should publicly deny that we have allies on any planets.”

It was of good intent. Lana knew that. But it wouldn’t work. Not permanently. “We can’t protect people from his reprisals- or stop those who believe in this Alliance from joining it.”

Fiika nodded quietly.

“I just heard the news.” Koth strode furiously into the war room, eyes alight and looking ready to throw punches. “We have to respond to Arcann’s attack.

“No.” Lana raised a hand to keep him from bursting out. “That’s exactly what he wants.”

Senya turned to her. “Is it?”

“Everyone take a breath.” Pattik held out his arms. “Settle your emotions and think. Theron?”

He frowned. “We already have more objectives that resources, but we can make a course adjustment.”

Pattik nodded and gestured to the vidscreens and holograms. “This kind of destruction will bring fear and chaos. We should do whatever we can to limit that.”

“I can get food and medical supplies to people who need them.” Koth looked calmer, now with a purpose to throw his anger behind.

Lana caught the look traded between him and Fiika. Something had happened.

Fiika herself spoke up. “I’ll organize security patrols to hold off any pirates or crime syndicates seeking to take advantage.”

_ Good idea. _

Senya pushed away from the war table, more tears on her cheeks. “We’re only delaying the inevitable. Sooner or later, my children must answer for what they’ve done.” She left the the war room, head bowed and caving in on herself.

Lana tapped her fingers on the edge of the table. Her cybernetic hand was starting to feel normal, and with her glove, no one would guess.

She just hoped they got to Arcann and Vaylin sooner than later.

* * *

 

It was a pity Father was already dead, because Arcann wanted to kill him.

He stared at himself in the mirror, taking in the scars, the sores where his cybernetic arm met flesh. There were bags under his eyes from crying and the sleepless nights. His reflection looked terrible.

And Father lurked behind him in the mirror. “Sleep well, son?”

“You know I did not.” Arcann fastened his mask on and left his rooms, not daring to look at any reflective surface lest he see Father at his side. He had to keep his mind focused-

There was Vaylin, striding towards him and eating one of the terribly sour fruits she was so fond of.

The hallways was empty save for them. There were no servants allowed in the residential levels of the Spire during the early hours.

Fury rose in his chest. “Where were you?!”

She stopped and stared at him in amusement. “Bombarding five worlds to dust. I made holos of it. Do you want a copy?”

_ What I want you is for you to take this seriously. _

“Father was on Zakuul! He used one of the outlanders to attack our home.” Arcann took a deep breath, trying to control his anger. Fiika, naturally it’d been her, strutting through the Overwatch command center and pretending to act all righteous and protective of innocents while- that- that- alien, Firebrand, wanted to let thousands of his people die solely because they were Zakuulans.

He wanted to fight something. Spar. Punch. Anything to let his frustrations go.

Vaylin seemed unaware of his emotions. She spun the fruit in her hand, looking for the next place to take a bite. “I don’t remember him being so funny when he was alive.”

“Am I laughing?!”

She glanced over at him. “You’ve never laughed.”

Arcann wanted to bellow at her that Father was playing them for fools, making Zakuul unsafe for their people. But that would only upset her. No, no, he needed to think, get his head on straight, stop thinking about Father and focus on Zakuul.

It was hard to think when he had a headache building at the base of his skull.

“Our Knights failed us. They must regain their honor.” Arcann crossed his arms, glaring at his sister. “Send them to the dueling circle in pairs. They’ll battle to the death.”

Vaylin had been about to bite into her fruit. She lowered it, staring at him in surprise. “Finding the outlanders will be harder, with half our Knights dead.”

He didn’t care. He needed a decent night’s sleep, needed Father to stop tormenting his dreams. “The survivors will be motivated. You know my command.”

Vaylin was still standing there before him, forgotten fruit in hand. “You’re serious.”

“Go!”

Her surprise turned to distaste as she turned around and left him.

Arcann went back to his rooms. He was Emperor. He could take a sick day. Sleep.

He needed sleep.

No nightmares, no memories.

Sleep.


	13. Time to wreak Havoc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fiika finds out what Havoc Squad is, and her, Pat, and Theron go to recruit them. Arcann... is tormented.

The hot summer wind had turned cool with nightfall. Light poles had been set up in a ring around the little open field. During the day, soldiers, pilots, and other Alliance members could take lunch as a picnic, or cool off in the little pond towards the back of the field.

The field didn’t have anything distinctive about it; it was hardly big enough to land a transport shuttle on, and the pond was big enough for perhaps three people to comfortably sit in. There was a little crack at the bottom of it, and fresh spring water gurgled up, but it wasn’t particularly attractive.

The field was atop a little plateau. A bridge connected it to the hangar, a narrow little bridge that three people could walk across it and their shoulders would touch. Of course, that would depend entirely on how wide those people’s shoulders were, so for the sake of the comparison, let’s just say that it was one Hutt wide.

Under that narrow little bridge was a ravine.

A very deep ravine that appeared positively endless at night. It was between two brightly lit areas: the hangar and the field ringed in light poles, connected by that narrow little bridge.

A bridge that Fiika was currently sprinting across, cackling madly.

She got to the field and kept going, aiming for the boulders at the back that lined the cliff wall. She could scale the cliff wall, but she didn’t want to. It wasn’t worth the effort.

Not when Senya could just Force-leap up to the ledge above like nothing.

Fiika got to the boulders and wriggled her boot under a small rock discreetly, facing the bridge.

Senya was lurking back, hovering where it met the field. She too was armed with practice vibro-daggers, barely more than a child’s plaything.

“Oy, c’mon!” Fiika swiped at the sweat on her forehead with her arm. Even with the sun down, Odessen was still humid and hot in the middle of summer. She’d left her uniform coat and cap folded on the hangar floor, deciding sparring could be done in an undershirt. It was too damn hot for anything else. She’s taken out of her bun and braided her hair back to let her scalp breath more. That, and a sweaty bun usually felt… uncomfortable.

Senya was still in her knight gear. No armor, no, it was too hot for that, but she had on her long-sleeved shirt and thick pants. And the second padded shirt over the long-sleeved shirt.

Fiika was slightly concerned, but Senya seemed fine.

Save for the fact that the Knight was obviously out of her element with knives. She kept trying to use them like a lightsaber.

And daggers didn’t have the reach of a lightsaber.

Fiika took a deep breath and charged Senya.

And Senya charged her.

_That is a terrible defensive strategy with vibro-daggers._

Fiika whirled and snapped her wrist, sending one flying towards the Knight.

Senya stopped it with a wave of her hand and lunged forward, trying to spear Fiika’s middle with her knife.

“No Force! That’s cheating!” Fiika grabbed Senya’s wrist and dodged her other dagger, moving out of reach of the Knight’s far arm. She spun inward, her back against Senya’s front, and pressed the tip of her dagger against her bottom rib. “You’re dead.”

“That-” Senya stumbled away, breathing heavily. “I do not like these. They’re effective. But I don’t like getting that close to someone I’m dueling.” She looked at the daggers in distaste before raising an eyebrow at Fiika. “And your hair. If you wear a braid down like that, it will end up cut off.”

Fiika rocked back on her heels, fanning herself. “It’s because it’s so bloody hot.” She collected the daggers and started back towards the hangar. “But did this help? You’ve seen how I fight with knives now, and I’ve showed you the basics.”

Senya nodded beside her. “I’ve got some ideas. No Knight would fight like you, but… you don’t have to fight like a Knight to defend yourself against one. Nor attack. If you attack in a way they’re not trained to defend against…” She trailed off.

Fiika sighed at the cool breeze flowing over the ravine. It cooled her burning skin, made her sweat turn cold-

A shiver raced down her spine.

Senya was still deep in thought and didn’t notice Fiika twinge with the flash of ice that wracked her body.

Fiika kept her pace controlled, hands in her pockets, intent on her coat that she’d left-

Koth was holding it for her, leaning against the end of the railing, smiling as he watched her. “Hey.” He’d shed his green coat, just in his plain cream-colored shirt. A very flattering shirt, as Fiika observed.

Senya glanced between them. “I’ll see you later.” She nodded politely to Koth and continued through the hangar towards the rest of the base.

“Hello.” Fiika took her coat from him and buttoned it up. “How was your day?”

“Tora burned her fingers again sticking them into the engine.” He held up a hand. “Don’t ask. And SCORPIO’s still doing upgrades. I don’t like her all that much, but she makes my baby handle like a charm.”

“Your baby?”

“The Gravestone.” He paused and looked around the hangar for eavesdroppers. “Okay, can I ask a favor?”

“You can always ask.” She shoved her hands back into her pockets. They felt cold.

He gave her a look. “Here’s the thing. Kaliyo was playing pazaak with my crew earlier after dinner. And…. Ah… Well, I was wondering if you could ask her for Len’s clothes back.”

Fiika couldn’t control the giggles. “What?”

“Len lost his clothes, and I mean _all_ his clothes, in pazaak.” Koth didn’t find it as funny as her, and frowned. “He’s locked himself in the ‘fresher until someone gets him something to wear. I offered to lend him some coveralls, but we both knew he wouldn’t fit in them. Can you talk to her about getting them back?”

“What’s Kaliyo going to do with them?”

“Fiika.”

She smiled softly. “Yes, I’ll talk to her. Or I’ll have someone do it. We’re not exactly on the best of terms since we got back from Zakuul.” She discreetly pulled her coat tighter around her, knowing full well that the cold was seeping into her bones and she needed medical help. She needed to get away from him to get to the med-bay.

Koth couldn’t know. He’d worry. And she’d worry about making him worry. And he’d mention it to Lord Beniko, or Theron, who would tell Lord Beniko, and Fiika would probably find herself on restrictive duty.

She went up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ve got a stack of requisition forms to sort tonight.”

He touched her cheek. “You’re cold.”

Fiika forced a laugh. “Oh, please, your hands are freezing,” she lied. “Goodnight, Captain Vortena.” She winked and swung her hips as she strode away.

He didn’t look completely satisfied, but he went along with her teasing. “Later, Agent Allos.”

Fiika left him in the hangar and walked as fast as she dared towards the med-bay.

Her insides felt like they were turning into ice.

* * *

 

Theron had his feet draped over the armrest of the one of the lumpy couches in a corner of the war room. It was too damn hot. Sure, the war room had environmental conditioning units, but with his luck, they were being repaired during a heat wave.

The war room hadn’t been overbearingly hot in the morning. But with various bodies sitting in it, using the projector table or the many computer terminals lining the far wall, the temperature had steadily risen. He’d shucked his jacket, his boots, socks, and had his sleeves rolled up.

Theron was certain his hair wasn’t even spiked anymore by the gel. Dried sweat was probably keeping it upright.

He was on the verge of rolling up his pant legs when his datapad dinged.

Technically, his implant silently alerted him, no sound effect involved, but Theron still felt like any alert needed a pretend ding.

He turned on his datapad, scrolled to the new message-

_It’s about time. They- Oh, this is great. He- Shit._

In his excitement, he hadn’t been paying attention to how he was sitting. And Theron rolled right off the couch. He knocked his head against the table.

“Are you alright?”

He looked over the low table to see Lana watching him from her desk. She’d gone without her scarf in this heat, and had no tabards with her tunic, nor leg armor, but she still had on long sleeves and gloves.

_Why are you still wearing gloves in this heat?_

“I’m fine.” He rubbed his head. “Totally fine. Peachy. Never better.”

She looked amused. “Oh? Get good news?” Lana nodded at his datapad. “Is it that bacta shipment?”

“No…” He had to lie quick and fast about something she wouldn’t care about. “I think I might’ve found my jacket for sell on the ‘Net. In yellow… I think it was yellow ochre? Or ombre? Something like that.”

Her faint smile disappeared. “Theron-”

“Don’t tell me not to get it.”

“No, you’re bleeding.” Lana patted her forehead. “Right there.”

He reached up and felt a sharp spike of pain. Oh goody. A reason to leave her before she started poking holes in his jacket lie. “Ow.” He looked at his hand. Blood shone on his fingers. “I’m going to head to the med-bay.”

She reached out as he passed her.

Theron looked down at her, freezing at her touch. “Yeah?”

Lana looked like she was debating her words. “Theron… don’t get the jacket.” There was a layer of disgust in her voice.

Thank the stars she bought the lie. “I can if I want. I just don’t know if yellow ochre’s my color. Could be too close to my implant.”

She released him, humor back in her gaze. “Go get that cleaned up.”

Theron made sure he had his datapad with him as he headed towards the med-bay.

* * *

 

Pattik looked up as Fiika tore past him, going straight to the back of the med-bay and grabbing one of the doctors. He couldn’t hear what she said, but her tone was obvious. Fiika’s voice was an octave higher that usual, he could sense her heartbeat nearly tripping over herself, and-

She looked over her shoulder at him.

Her lips were bloodless.

He could sense waves of iciness rolling off her; her body temperature was dropping. Something was very wrong.

Pattik slid off his examination table. His cybernetic inspection could wait. Fiika needed help.

She swayed on her feet, eyes dull.

She needed help now.

* * *

 

She was cocooned in a thermal blanket, feeling comfortably warm.

The medic was looking at her charts with an expression best described as dubious, Doctor Oggurob lurking behind him and bobbing his head in thought.

Master Pattik was getting his back looked at by another medic. And he was watching her.

Fiika pulled her blanket around her as if it’d shield her from his concern. “Well?”

The medic sighed.

That was never a good sign.

Doctor Oggurob spoke. “You said you’d had carbonite poisoning, Agent Allos, not hibernation sickness. That is correct? And you were treated at Asylum for the poisoning?”

“Yes.” She eyed them suspiciously. “They said I might still have some cold flashes, but nothing serious.”

“They exaggerated.”

“Emperor’s underwear,” Fiika swore. “What’s really going on?”

The medic sighed again.

Doctor Oggurob plowed on as if he were the only one there. “From our estimations and tests, it looks like your body has a difficult time regulating temperature. Your nervous system was damaged from being re-frozen so soon after poisoning treatment, and it’s likely you’ll be at risk for these ‘cold attacks’ for the rest of your life. My suggestion is to let me have a couple blood samples…”

Fiika had toned him out.

_I was re-frozen?_

When had she been thawed out and treated? She could recall being dragged out of Arcann’s throne room, screaming. And fighting the entire way to the carbonite freezing labtratory. Then… Lord Beniko and Master Pattik standing beside her. That first escape from the Spire was a bit of a haze.

“Agent Allos?”

Fiika looked up at Doctor Oggurob. “Could you have that mixed up? I was treated on Asylum. Could that have been for the carbonite poisoning? I don’t have a memory of being treated on Zakuul.”

“No, if you’d been melted out and hadn’t received treatment, you would have perished. You had to have been treated within… an hour or two of being thawed.”

“But I don’t remember it.”

The medic finally spoke. “If you were poisoned by way of carbonite, chances are you would’ve been out of it for days or over a week. I would have been impressed if you did remember it. And, Agent, you were a prisoner of Zakuul. You were probably sedated.”

Doctor Oggurob was nodding. “So if I could get some blood, and maybe tissue samples to analyze-“

“That’s going to have to wait.” Theron strode into the med-bay, a fresh scratch at his hairline and with the air of excitement about him. “Oh, great, you’re both here. Doc, I need Pat and Fiika.” He came to a stop, and looked at them both. “Are both okay? I need them cleared for duty.”

“I’m fine.” Master Pattik pulled on his tunic.

Fiika gave her medic a fierce glare. “I better be.”

He stared back, unfazed. “You might be, but you best carry enough kolto to keep you going until you can seek medical help or your body rights itself.”

“Then I’m cleared.” She jumped down from the cot and joined Theron and Pattik.  “What’s this you need us for?”

Theron eyed the med-bay. “Let’s go somewhere private.”

Fiika traded a look with Master Pattik and followed Theron.

* * *

 

They ended up in an empty…

Fiika decided it was meant to be a bunkroom for when the Alliance grew. The entire corridor was mostly empty rooms, and this one had an attached refresher. “So, Theron, something on your mind.”

His eyes were glazed over from reading something with his implant. “Hm?”

Master Pattik coughed politely.

“Right. I need your help with something.” Theron pulled out his datapad.

Fiika grinned. “Is this a personal matter?” She wriggled her eyebrows at him. “Regarding a certain Sith-“

“Fiika,” warned Master Pattik. “Focus.”

She fixed the Jedi with a droll look. “Apologies for having a sense of humor, Commander, and trying to add some levity to this…” She turned back to Theron. “Whatever this is.”

“It’s not a personal matter. Just don’t need to have a committee for this discussion.” He unconsciously touched the cut on his forehead. “I passed a portion of that data you-” Theron pointed at Fiika- “secured from Overwatch through an SIS contact of mine. It made a convincing invitation to some prospective allies in the Republic Special Forces.”

Fiika frowned. She didn’t know much about Special Forces on the Republic side, no, she knew practically nothing and learning anything more would require significant amount of reluctant research.

Pattik looked curious. “Who is it you’re planning on recruiting?”

“I identified a sympathetic ear in the leader of the Republic’s most decorated military unit.” Theron looked particularly proud of himself. “The data I gave over was enough to convince Havoc Squad to take leave of their official duti-“

“Havoc Squad,” Fiika repeated. “Never heard of them.”

“You’re never-” Theron gaped at her. “How? They’re- It’s Havoc Squad! You haven’t- They’re famous in the Republic. The Battle of the Gauntlet? General Rakton’s capture? Makeb?”

Fiika glanced at Master Pattik to see him staring at her in confusion as well.

_I guess I’m on my own here. Brilliant._

She glared back at Theron. “I’m sorry, I’m Imperial. I grew up watching children’s cartoons like Captain Kaas, not the news.”

“I- Okay. They’re a famous squad-”

“I’ve got that much already.”

He gave her a look, obviously irritated. “I-”

“Havoc is a source of Republic pride,” Master Pattik interrupted calmly. “They’re the best the Republic Army has to offer. Their victories were celebrated across planets. No one knows who they are, what they look like. Like Darth Marr. No one knew what he looked like under the mask, but he was famous for being on the Dark Council, yes? Only in this case, no one knows anything about Havoc other than their triumphs.”

“Aaalllllright,” Fiika said slowly. “I think I’ve got it.”

Theron still looked put off. “Anyway, they’re taking leave of their official duties. I have it on good authority they’re conducting an…” He paused and did finger quotations. “‘Unscheduled’ operation on Zakuul. My contact set up a rendezvous.” He turned to Master Pattik. “It’s up to you to sell them on this Alliance.”

“Wouldn’t they be more receptive to one of their own? SIS? Military?” Master Pattik tilted his head. “I’m a Jedi.”

“Havoc starting their own little war out here is basically treason. I’m a spy. If anything, they’ll be even less likely to trust me than you. I could be sent from SIS to kill them for desertion for all they know. Jedi are more respectable.” Theron stuck his hands on his hips. “So. You both want to go?”

Master Pattik nodded.

“A chance to get out of this bloody heat?” Fiika grinned. “Count me in.”

“We leave in a couple hours.”

* * *

 

He flinched slightly as the droid checked the electric sensors on his new arm. One of the gears on his wrist was clicking when he bent it, and-

Arcann ignored the flare of pain that shot across his chest. “Loosen that.”

The droid’s delicate little tools spun around the fastener at his shoulder..

He studied the rest of the new arm. Extra plating was layered between armor, making it impossible to for any more annoyingly deft agents to get a dagger into the wiring, impossible for it do be damaged. It’d been polished up, far more than he preferred, but it would dull over time.

The arm was just so... shiny.

Every light in the med-bay shimmered on the surface. One plate reflected the sunset out the window, looking like it was made of liquid gold.

It would do.

* * *

 

The was a very average pair of perimeter sensors along a small patch of the Endless Swamp.

Sometimes one would go off, Skytroopers would be deployed, and it’d be discovered that an Iknayid had climbed up the sensor. Other times warnings would go off, and the sensor would be malfunctioning because the heavy humidity had eaten through a crack in the durasteel and had rusted away some wires.

The singular technician in the sensor readout room looked up as those two sensors went off.

He flipped through a couple files, saw that they’d just been given completely new wiring just a few weeks ago, and flicked on the little holocamera nearby.

No Iknayid on the sensors.

Something had sent them off, and it wasn’t the usual suspects.

He hit the button for Skytrooper deployment.

* * *

 

“We’re going to the bloody _swamp_?”

Fiika stuck her head past Theron’s and glared at the fog as they coasted slowly through the trees.

He’d insisted that autopilot could get them to where they needed to go. The coordinates were very specific, he’d repeated too many times for her to count. He wanted them as close as possible.

Fiika figured he was still insulted that she didn’t know who Havoc Squad was, and this was his way of taking it out on her.

Master Pattik had a polite look of utter distaste plastered on. “It appears so.”

She grimaced.

The swamp was terrible. It was very high on the list of places she never needed to think of again, let alone go back to. She wasn’t even in it yet and she already felt like her socks and boots were soaked through.

The shuttle landed softly, but in Fiika’s very biased opinion, it wasn’t as soft a landing as she would’ve done.

Theron released the harness from the pilot’s seat and tossed her a bottle. “Camouflage. We need to blend in.”

Fiika looked at the deep green paint and then back up at him. “You understand you could have told me this back on Odessen and I would have brought my gear.”

He grinned at her. “This gear?”

“If you went into my room without- That’s not mine.” Fiika looked hard at the mottled green and gray… things he held up. “Is that a _poncho_?” It looked even worse than his foul red jacket. She would have to talk to Lana about cutting Theron off from buying gear.

“Yes they are. Pat.” Theron  held up another and tossed one at the Jedi. And tossed the other at Fiika. He pulled a third out of the pack in the corner and yanked it on over his shirt.

Pattik put on his own and fastened his belt over it. “It… could be worse.”

Fiika sighed. “Theron. Is that all you’re wearing? A shirt and the… poncho?”

“Yeah.”

“You do understand that it’s cold out there. That’s not a warm swamp. You’re going to freeze.” Fiika pulled the poncho on and grabbed a knife. She cut away the bottom hem and tied the length around her waist, making an impromptu belt.

Theron paused. “Oh.” He dove back into the pack and pulled an emergency thermal shirt. He took off the poncho and button-up shirt, put on the thermal shirt, and then replaced the other layers. “I think I’ll be good now.”

Fiika followed Master Pattik down the ramp. “You know, sometimes I worry quite a bit about him.” She smeared the green facepaint on.

He smiled. “He’d walk around Tatooine without sunscreen.”

“Thanks.” Theron said dryly. He took the facepaint from her and carefully put it on his face, mindful of his implant. He pointed east. “That way.”

* * *

 

Fine, so he hadn’t remembered if the swamp was warm or cool and he’d figured he’d be fine with just a shirt and a poncho.

Theron had other things to worry about.

Like there being no holonet or power sources in the swamp.

His implant was unnervingly quiet. No updates on Alliance forms, no alerts about any breaking news. Nothing. What was he supposed to do, enjoy the scenery while they walked?

Except walking was probably a generous over-simplification.

Sloshed was more accurate.

They were up to their knees in water, picking their way through a copse of little trees with tangled roots below the waterline. So far none of them had slipped or tripped or stumbled into falling into the water, and Theron was very okay with that.

He paused and pointed to an opening in a rock face. “The rendezvous is in there. Spook, you go in first. I don’t want anyone seeing you. Pat, you’re with me.” Theron glanced behind him in time to see Fiika melt away into the shadows.

Pattik sloshed next to him into the clearing.

* * *

 

Major Aric Jorgan did not get impatient.

He was a damn sniper, patience was ingrained in him. He would outwait anyone, even Jedi, and had successfully done so. Multiple times.

Torg, however, was not patient. Nor had he listened to Jorgan’s warning about eating or drinking when he got bored.

“Sir,” Torg whispered.

Aric knew what was coming. “Yes?”

“Permission to relieve myself.”

“Granted.” Aric glanced over at Kanner. “And Lieutenant, relieve the Sergeant of his canteen.”

“Yes, Sir.” She snapped out a hand. “Torg, canteen, now.”

The Kaleesh sergeant sighed and handed over the canteen before he disappeared into the bushes.

Aric shook his head and went back to watching the swamp below.

The motion sensor alarm on his wrist flashed.

In an instant Kanner and Torg were reaching for their weapons, the air charged around them. They were silent, waiting on his orders. Little movements in the swamp below told him that Dengril, Abbeth, and Xaban were ready for his orders.

Aric adjusted his view through his scope. A human and a very tall Zabrak were making their way through the mud. Agent Shan and… it was Jedi Master Pattik. One of the of old Jedi Council members before the war. And they were close to the field communicator he’d placed.

It could still be a trap. Those ponchos they were wearing could be hiding anything.

He cleared his throat and spoke into the communicator mic. “I’ve got an anti-material rifle trained on your position and an unrestricted firing angle for at least a hundred meters. That’s either really good or really bad, depending on your reasons for being here.”

Master Pattik held up his hands peacefully. “I represent an Alliance forming against Emperor Arcann. We thought that might interest you.”

Agent Shan was looking around suspiciously.

_Damn SIS. Never trusting._

“So the message said.” Aric relaxed and started heading down towards the Jedi and spy. “Stand down, Havoc.” He didn’t flinch as he marched through the water. Wet socks were the least of anyone’s problems.

Kanner cursed quietly under her breath. Torg was silent.

Abbeth and Xaban came out of the bushes-

“Where’s Dengril?” he barked.

Havoc looked around. Xaban pointed towards where he’d been stationed. “He was over there-”

“Dammit, I know.” Aric stode right up to Agent Shan. “Where’s my soldier?”

“Don’t look at me, I just got here.”

“DENGRIL!” Kanner roared. “Out here, now!”

The man burst out of the trees, accompanied a small woman in a mottled poncho. She took her place beside Master Pattik, arms crossed behind her back and poncho giving nothing away about what was under it.

Dengril was red in the face and silently took his spot, thoroughly embarrassed. “Sorry, Sir.”

Aric gritted his teeth. This was not how he wanted to start this conversation. “Major Jorgan, Havoc Squad. I know you and you.” He nodded at Agent Shan and Master Pattik. “You, I don’t recognize.”

The girl started back, unfazed at the glare he was giving her. He didn’t appreciate anyone getting the better of his men, and that she even had meant she was just as dangerous as Aric himself.

He wanted to know who she was.

“You’ve heard of Lord Beniko,” said Agent Shan. “She-

Aric stared at her. Lord Beniko? Sith Intelligence? He’d heard rumors of what she looked like, and had read the official description. She met it, blonde hair, on the shorter side, but she didn’t look Sith. But appearances could be deceiving-

“No,” she snapped at Agent Shan. “I am not Lord Beniko.” She turned to Aric. “I’m Lord Beniko’s personal Intelligence Agent. Fiika Allos, identification number 505.” She nodded at him.

“You brought Imperial Intelligence into this?” Aric snarled at Agent Shan.

Agent Allos snorted. “I’m not with Intelligence, Major, at least, not anymore. I resigned after Ziost.”

Aric looked her over. “Your codename. Spook. That was you on Yavin.”

“Yes.”

“And now I’ve got a face to put to all the stories.” He’d heard of the small team that’d torn it’s way through the jungle. She was rarely mentioned in any file, but what was… She could be a force to be reckoned with.

Agent Allos met his challenging look. “Stopping Arcann is all that matters now. My old life was gone the moment Ziost was.”

Aric nodded and turned back to Agent Shan. “We’re on the same page then. I’m tired of seeing Arcann stomp all over the galaxy. You want to finally start giving as good as you’re getting, I’ve got an op that can use your help.”

“What do you need?”

Something flashed overhead.

_Dammit._

Aric slung his rifle around. “Your landing didn’t go unnoticed-”

“Oh, maybe that’s because the bloody pilot didn’t fly the fucking shuttle!” Agent Allos hissed at Agent Shan.

Aric did not want to get between whatever was going on between them. He raised his arm. “Havoc! Hostiles!”

Skytroopers poured from the troop transport above. He aimed and fired at the cockpit, taking out the pilot. The transport veered off for a moment before it exploded. Aric turned back around and started taking out Skytroopers, Agent Shan next to him.

Agent Allos grunted behind him.

He glanced over his shoulder to see her taking droids with vibro-daggers. It looked like she could handle it.

The sky thundered overhead and rain started to patter down.

Master Pattik was wading into the fray. He looked awkward, like he wasn’t sure how he ought to be fighting.

And then the walkers fell from the sky.

* * *

 

Of course Zakuul had to drop walkers down to fight them.

Theron would’ve prefered tanks. Tanks were… well, Fiika didn’t like tanks.  Fiika didn’t know how to drive a tank. And Fiika didn’t get way too giddy and enjoy driving tanks a little too much.

“YES!” She shot past Theron and went straight towards one of the walkers. “I’ve got this!”

 _Oh no_.

Theron fired his pistols and took out a group of Skytroopers. He couldn’t stop her.

Fiika shot her liquid cable launcher at the cockpit of the walker and scaled the side, grinning. She threw open the hatch, reached in a yanked out the pilot, and slid inside.

“What is she doing?” Major Jorgan barked.

Theron groaned. “You’ll see.” He stopped firing at the Skytroopers. Why ruin her fun?

Fiika’s walker turned towards the other. The missile launcher started to glow. She fired one shot, just one, at the other walker to get it’s attention.

“Aaaaand here we go,” Theron said.

The missiles bellowed at they exited their launchers. And the walker exploded.

A wave of heat rolled past him, a welcome change to the chilly swamp air.

Fiika’s walker turned to the Skytroopers and unleashed a torrent of blasterfire. The Skytroopers didn’t stand a chance. They crumpled into the water. One was still standing after a minute, and it was staring at the walker.

The walker walked forward and stomped down on it with a loud crunch.

She poked her head out of the hatch. “Anything else?”

“No,” Pattik called up to her. “Just the walker you’re in.”

Theron saw her say something to herself before she climbed out and dropped a thermal grenade in. He turned back to Major Jorgan. “She likes walkers. A lot.”

“That won’t be the last of them.” He pointed at his men. “Dengril, Xaban, split north. Abbeth, Torg, south. Kanner, take Agent Shan, fastest route back to camp. We’re regroup there. Agent Allos, Master Pattik, you’re with me. We’re… What?” The Cathar trailed off at Pattik’s look.

The Jedi looked uncomfortable. “I… I really should be the one going back to camp. I have cybernetics, and I don’t know how they’ll hold up with the rain. It’s better I collapse at your camp than in the middle of this swamp.”

Theron nodded. “I can go with him. Cover him and Kanner. Anything goes wrong, I can contact our people.”

Major Jorgan looked over at Fiika. “Allos, you with me. We’re covering the retreat.”

She was silent, but the way her jaw was set told Theron she wasn’t overly thrilled with being paired with Major Jorgan.

At least this way she could learn about Havoc Squad.

* * *

 

Fiika replaced her daggers in their sheaths and helped herself to a Skytrooper rifle. “We stand a better chance of fighting them off by sticking together.”

Major Jorgan watched the last of his soldiers disappear into the rain. “Fighting them is an unnecessary risk. Skytroopers have numbers and mobility. Losing them is going to take misdirection…” He trailed off.

Fiika inspected the rifle and slung it across her chest.

_We’re sending them on a wild bantha chase._

She wiped rain out of her eyes, waiting for him to finish coming up with a plan. She’d had one, but it’d involved the walker that was now useless and filling with swamp water.

“I need a good vantage.” Major Jorgan started towards a rocky ledge.

_So this is Havoc. I… was expecting more._

* * *

 

Fiika hauled Jorgan to the left. “Watch it.”

He growled at her. “What?”

She pointed above them at an Iknayid egg sac. “Trust me, you don’t want to walk under that. I’ve seen them hatching. It’s appalling.”

Jorgan still seemed suspicious. That was perfectly fine with her. She was suspicious of him.

They skirted the Iknaid egg sac and started up a rocky outcrop, heading deeper into the swamp. The fog was thicker, the trees closer together. Silence hung heavy. No creatures, if there were even any, made noise. It was just Fiika and Jorgan, barely making any sounds as they carefully picked their way over rocks and mud, the cold seeping into their clothes.

Fiika kept her hands resting lightly on her daggers.

The silence set her nerves on edge, and she couldn’t see more than… a couple trees in any direction. Bushes and rocks loomed out of the fog in impassive dark shadows. They seemed to take on the shape of anything: Knights, Skytroopers, Valkorian, Arcann; until the fog faded and she saw that it’d been a tree branch twisted in an odd manner. It set her teeth on edge.

Jorgan seemed to be just as jittery too. His ears were forever twitching, his eyes scanning constantly.

The ledge they were on curved around and dipped back down, widening into a proper path. The fog disappeared as they cut between two cliff faces and came out overlooking a ravine.

A stiff breeze hit them, and Fiika pulled her poncho tighter around her neck.

There was a small waterfall to their right. The wind tore the misty spray away right into their faces.

“Here.” Jorgan crouched down along the edge, setting up his rifle. “No sign of pursuit. Watch my six while I cover the retreat.”

Fiika turned back and looked at the narrow little path they’d come through. The fog didn’t brave seeping between the cliff faces. If anyone or anything came that way towards them, there would be plenty of warning.

“This new Emperor… you’ve met him?”

“I- I have.” She could remember waking up his prisoner on his flagship, helping him kill Valkorian. His promise that she could have anything she wanted. And then she was dragged off to be frozen.

Arcann had lied.

And then… Asylum. He’d been… like he had at the beginning on his Flagship. In control, offering her anything to get her to return to Zakuul so they could figure out how to get Valkorian out of her mind, ready to sacrifice nearly anything to get her to come with him. He’d saved her from a falling column then speared her with his lightsaber.

Then decimated five planets because they could have been harboring the Alliance.

“What’s your assessment?” Jorgan asked.

“He’s got quite the temper.” Fiika tapped her fingers on her daggers, thinking how to best phrase the confusing interactions she’d had with him. “Valkorian believed he could start something new and different here, but in the end  he only taught his heirs to be every bit the monster he was.”

_‘Or perhaps it is merely the nature of the son to seek to surpass his father?’_

_Are you speaking from personal experience? Because sons shouldn’t wish to murder their father. Not if their father was decent._

She shook her head to push Valkorian away. “Arcann’s overconfident, but almost as invincible as he thinks he is. I pushed him off Asylum and he survived.”

_‘Are the young not always so deluded? You repeatedly set yourself in the path of danger, and survived a devastating wound from my son.’ Valkorian chuckled. ‘His grapple with mortality is yet to come.’_

“Yet… His father twisted and used up entire worlds according to his whims.” Fiika gritted her teeth, daring the demon in her head to keep talking. “Imagine being a child in that shadow. I don’t fault him for being the way he is. And he has shown moments of humanity.”

_‘Mine was not the only shadow the boy stood in.’_

_Shut up, you wanker._

Jorgan’s rifle spat, jarring her from her thoughts.

He continued sweeping the ravine below. “Nothing but despots left in this galaxy. The Republic I signed up to protect doesn’t exist anymore.” His rifle let out another shot. “We gave the reins over to people who don’t care how we win, just as long as we do. Saresh is all but a dictator now.” Jorgan went still, lined up a shot, and fired.

Fiika frowned at an Iknayid spinning a web. “Don’t you pride yourselves on keeping all the power out of the hands of one individual?”

“Not enough politicians with the spine to stick to their principles when it really mattered,” he spat. “Saresh and her puppet chancellor have everyone convinced the state of emergency requires executive action. She and the top brass just push through whatever suits their interests.” He stood, glaring out at the swamp.

She decided he had a face suited for glaring. “Oh?”

Jorgan turned his glower on her. “Never thought I’d miss bureaucrats butting into military matters, but what we gained in efficiency we lost in soul.” He shook his head in disgust.

Fiika met his look. “This is a fight you can believe in, at least.”

“I’m holding you to that.”Jorgan peered through his scope down in the swamp, sweeping left and right for anymore Skytroopers. He froze. “Hold on. Got something.”

Her blood stilled, heart in her ears. “What is it?”

“Civvies… and Skytroopers. They’re in trouble.”

Fiika had her assault rifle slung around by the time he’d turned to her. She was fuully prepared to dive into the swamp below to save them, but… would this Major support her if it put his plans on hold? Plenty of Imperial soldiers would leave the civilians to their own devices, especially if they were from the enemy’s side.  “What do you want to do?” She didn’t particularly fancy going down there alone.

He read her expression, his never softening. “You have to ask?” He fired a liquid cable launcher at the ravine wall and planted his feet on the edge.

She set up her own launcher, and together they descended into the murk.

* * *

 

The rain was still coming down.

Pattik had his hood pulled low, his horns keeping the soaked material from touching his head and water running down his back.

Theron’s hair was plastered against his head. And he looked thoroughly drenched.

“Almost there.” Kanner nodded at them. “It’ll be warmer in camp.”

Pattik nodded. He could sense something off to their right, but it was a large creature and more interested in whatever it was poking with a stick.

Theron leaned in close the moment Kanner had turned her back to them. “It’ll be good to get dry.”

“As long as my back isn’t malfunctioning, I’m not complaining.” Pattik smiled faintly at Theron’s flat look. “Do not resist nature. Accept it, and you’ll be more comfortable. No one wins against nature. Fighting it is useless.”

“So… I accept the rain? By what, opening my mouth at it?”

Pattik shrugged. “I don’t know, my master used to say that about any weather. I still haven’t figured it out.”

Theron stepped over a twisted tree root. “So… tough it out.”

“Yes.”

“Great.” His other foot got caught on the root and Theron went face-first into the swamp. He picked himself up, cursing. “Well… It’s not like I could’ve gotten any wetter.”

Pattik snorted. “That’s the way to do it. Stay optimistic.”

“I’ll be optimistic when I can feel my feet again.”

Kanner gave him a dark look over her shoulder. “You always so full of chit-chat?”

“I can be.” Theron twisted his poncho to get what water he could out of it. “This is me in a talkative mood.”

Pattik wiped rain off his forehead. “Agent Shan gets irritated when he’s not picking anything up on his implant. Please don’t take it personally.”

“Just because there’s no holonet signal doesn’t mean I’m irritated.” Theron righted his poncho with as much dignity as someone in a poncho could have. “I’m just soaked everywhere. And I mean everywhere.”

Pattik had a genial smile plastered on. “He’ll be fine, Kanner. Please.” He gestured for them to keep going, giving Theron a look. “Be quiet. There’s something that way-” he pointed to their right- “that’s big and curious.”

Theron sighed and plodded on through the muck.

* * *

 

_Bloody wingmaws._

Oh, Fiika could handle Iknayids, mawvorrs, other swamp creatures, but why did the blasted wingmaws always come for her? She sliced her daggers through the air and sent the final one down into the marsh with a splash.

The skytroopers were in pieces around them.

“You saved us!” One of the exiles, a older man with hair more gray than… whatever color it’d started out as; he was on his knees, grinning. “Thank you. Thank you.”

“Everyone alright? Any injured?” Jorgan looked around the bushes, as if he were expecting more than just the three of them to come out.

One of the man’s companions, a woman around his age, shook her head. “No, no, I don’t think so.” Her eyes were shining with tears. “Thank you.”

The third person looked like their child, if Fiika had to guess. He was younger, more defiant in stature. “The Skytroopers, they just came from nowhere. We’d done nothing. We’re no threat to the Spire, but the droids drove us from our homes and started burning everything!” His eyes will filled with fire.

“Please!” The woman cried. “Stop them, like you did for us. There are others out there. Our families and friends. Our homes…” she trailed off in horror. “There’ll be nothing left.”

Jorgan snarled and look in the direction the woman was pointing. “I can smell smoke. Not too far.”

_How barbaric, Arcann._

Fiika adjusted her grip on the rifle. “We’ll rescue everyone we can.”

“Couldn’t agree more.” Jorgan spoke to the exiles. “Meet us afterwards and we’ll see about getting you out of here.”

They nodded.

Jorgan joined Fiika. “Alright. Let’s kick some Skytrooper ass.”

They waded through the water, following his sense of smell. He had a better nose than her, and Fiika wasn’t about to challenge him about it. She kept her eyes peeled for wildlife. More specifically; wingmaws.

And the black Skytroopers landed in a violet splash.

_They come in black, now, do they?_

Jorgan was knocked back on his rear.

Fiika shot forward, daggers flashing as she aimed for-

The Skytrooper backhanded her aside.

_Oh, so this one knows how to defend itself. Bloody brilliant._

She whirled and threw a dagger. The droid shifted to the right and it sailed harmlessly over its shoulder.

Jorgan hammered shots into the front of it, firing from his ass and waist-deep in water. Algae clung to his armor.

The Skytrooper was completely unfazed with the bolts being drilled into its front. It raised it arm-

Fiika saw what was happening and abandoned her common sense to jump atop the back the of Skytrooper. If the flamethrower went off, Jorgan would be fried. And he knew where the camp was. She didn’t, and Fiika was not fond of the idea of wandering around the endless swamp on her own. It was dubbed endless for a reason, she was willing to bet.

She got her fingers around the accelerant tube and yanked until she heard something snap.

Accelerant spilled all over the droid and her, splashing over the water, splattering Jorgan…

Fiika dropped off the back of the droid. “Run!”

Jorgan was already doing so, dragging her alongside him.

She jogged backwards, watching the drod. It’s programming didn’t seem to realize that the tube had been ripped, and it activated the flamethrower.

The Skytrooper appeared to spontaneously combust. Fire erupted out of the armor, the accelerant in the water caught, and within seconds that little bit of swamp was a bonfire.

“Come on.” Jorgan growled. “We’re close.”

Fiika nodded and they picked their way around a wall of rock.

Close was an understatement, she decided.

The exiles’ homes were right there. They were a scavenger’s dream, made of mix-matched materials and stacked haphazardly around trees. Wooden walkways connected them. Rust was everywhere.

And it all was currently being set on fire by Skytroopers. Not the black ones, Fiika noticed. No, it was usual white run-of-the-mill kind that would be easy to take out with her daggers. Or in this case, dagger. The other was still back with the flaming black Skytrooper, somewhere in the mud.

“Let’s clear them out.” Jorgan raised his rifle. “I’ll snipe. You… just make sure I can see you.”

“I’m in camouflage,” she snapped. Fiika pulled her assault rifle around. “And if you’re leading Havoc, aren’t you supposedly the best of the best? So don’t hit me.” She left him perched behind a boulder and started up a ramp towards the houses, fully aware that she was irritating him, but then he was Republic and she was Imperial. It was tradition that they try to poke insults at the other.

Fiika stormed into the cloud of smoke. She could feel it settling in the back of her throat.

Two quick shots and she took care of the pair of Skytroopers setting fire to a front door. She covered her hand with her poncho and heaved the door open.

A pair of men stared back.

“You can’t stay here. The Skytroopers are burning everything. Run! Save anyone you can.” She figured she looked a fright. Her eyes were itching from the smoke, probably red. Soot was collecting on her damp clothes.

They nodded and started gathering things.

Satisfied, Fiika pounded up the nearest ramp. Smoke hit her in the face, and-

“BLOODY-”

She shot to the right, dodging heavy fire from-

An assault droid was protecting the Skytroopers. A big, ghastly, heavily armored assault droid. Taking it out would leave her back exposed to the Skytroopers it was protecting.

Fiika cursed as the droid hammered shots into tree trunk she was using for cover. She sunk down lower, braced herself on-

A thin green laser sliced through the smoke. A heartbeat later the assault droid hit the floor with a thunk, a small hole burned through the armor over its power core.

Jorgan.

She rounded the trunk and pounded towards the Skytroopers. Her rifle ripped out a pair of shots, turning them to scrap. “IT’S CLEAR IF YOU RUN NOW. NOW!” Fiika hammered on the doors, bellowing. She kept going through the smoke, eyes watering and holding back coughs. The Skytroopers needed to be stopped before they burned the swamp down.

Even in the bloody rain, these homes were burning.

Fiika pushed on, through the smoke, the rain. It was a damn miracle that she could still see five feet in front of her. “OUT! EVERY-BLOODY-ONE OUT!”

Something hit her in the back and she landed heavily on her knees. It wasn’t from a blaster, more like a kick-

She rolled over, throat raw from the smoke, and had the air kicked out of her by another boot.

A Knight.

“Fucking hell.” Fiika scrambled away on her backside. Her hand hit something on fire- “OW!” It was blazing hot, whatever it was. She could feel it through her glove.

The Knight’s armor was black and dented in places. He lacked the imposing air the others had on Zakuul. And no lightsaber.

Force help her, maybe luck was on her side and this was a Knight in training.

Fiika’s hand closed around her dagger.

The Knight flicked his hand and it flew away.

Damn the bloody Force.

She glanced behind her to see what she’d backed up into. A bit of rubble with a smoking pipe, probably from plumbing, sticking out. The pipe was what she’d nearly burned her hand on.

Fiika took a deep breath and rocketed to her feet, pulling the pipe free in a shower of sparks. The end of it was glowing, and rain sizzled before turning to steam as it met the metal. She charged the Knight.

He had a pair of vibroswords strapped to his back. The Knight met her clumsy swing and parried it.

She was forced back towards the burning rubble. Fiika choked on her breath as the wind shifted, driving rain and smoke into her face.

The knight pressed closer. He bellowed and-

Fiika saw her chance and dove past him, bringing her pipe around. The burning end hit his hand and knocked away one of his vibroswords. It clattered over the edge of the walkway, falling into the smoke below. She wiped the rain out of her eyes. This Knight was no Senya, that was for sure, but even he was a challenge.

Something moved out of the corner of her eye-

She ducked under a flaming piece of scrap that the Knight had Force-thrown at her. “I’ve got better aim that your soggy arse!”

The Knight charged her.

Fiika met his strike head-on, her pipe throwing sparks into the air. One landed on her cheek and she flinched. The Knight, in his impenetrable armor, didn’t even more a muscle.

He shoved let go with one hand, she overpowered him and stumbled against him in surprise-

Why would a daft-

And his free hand closed around her throat.

Fiika tried to jab the pipe at his exposed neck.

The Knight caught the bright end with his gloved hand. He kept his fist around it, even as the leather on his glove started to burn. Pain wouldn’t stop him. His fist tightened around her neck.

Her airway was being cut off.

Fiika braced herself and brought her knees up to her chest.

The Knight wasn’t able to hold her upright by neck. He didn’t have the sheer strength, and wasn’t using the Force to help him. He fell down alongside her, unprepared.

She was prepared, however, and straddled his back. Fiika forced her hands under his helmet and twisted.

A morbid cracking noise echoed through the smoke.

Fiika rolled onto her back, coughing. The smoke was getting worse. She pulled herself to her feet and took the Knight’s remaining vibrosword.

“ANYBODY HERE, GET OUT! SKYTROOPERS ARE BURNING EVERYTHING!”

She dropped down a level and splashed into a puddle. The smoke was thicker, but the fire wasn’t as bad.

A young woman grabbed her and pulled her down a ramp. “Everyone’s out, come on!”

Fiika stormed through the puddles alongside the woman. She needed to clear the smoke, wipe her eyes, get water. Her mouth tasted like ash.

The woman stopped and Fiika looked up. Jorgan joined her from a large group of Zakuulan exiles, all of different ages. All pissed.

“Go, just get out of here!” one of them snapped.

“This is your fault!”

“You did this to us!”

Fiika gaped at them in utter disbelief. “We’re not your bloody enemy!”

Jorgan leaned over to talk softly to her. “The Skytroopers were probably searching for us.”

_‘They wanted for nothing before my reign ended. Look on them now.’_

_Go look on your head shoved up your arse._

She didn’t need Valkorian distracting her in the swamp, not now.

A man stepped forward from the group. The other exiles glanced at him, respect in their eyes.

_So you’re the leader._

Fiika nodded politely at him.

The leader stared hard between her and Jorgan. “I believe you wanted to help, but we were doomed the moment you came here. The Emperor will want to make an example of your resistance. He’ll likely crack down harder.” He stood with his shoulders stiff, jaw clenched. Like a soldier who’d been through the worst and came out with part of him left behind.

He was a man on the verge of cracking.

Fiika had seen her fair share of people like him. “Why are you being targeted by Arcann?” She ignored the looks traded by the exiles when she asked.

“Because we doubt.” The leader waved his hand at her. “Tell them the reasons.”

A woman spoke up. “I asked for proof of how our Immortal Emperor could ever die.”

A man. “I searched the old ways for guidance.”

An old grizzled woman, who shared the same strong jaw as the leader. “I wondered why we continue to seek revenge on so many outlanders for the actions of one.”

“You.” The leader was looking directly at her, expression unreadable.

Fiika met his look with an equally impassive one. “Me?”

“It was your actions.” He didn’t break eye contact. “I sought justice for those condemned to exile. We all had questions, and the new Emperor does not suffer them.” A look of disdain crossed his face. “You may have given him an excuse to silence us for good.”

“We have a camp. I can offer you protection,” Jorgan spoke up.

Fiika was still locked in a stare-down between the exile leader. He had nerves of steel, and she was impressed. Keeping his people safe of years, in an inhospitable swamp no less, took courage and strength. Would he still consider her a threat, even with the offer of shelter? “You’ve suffered enough out here. We can help.”

The leader broke the stare-down to look around his people. He nodded. “We’ll take your offer.”

Jorgan turned away to speak into his comm. “Kanner, we’re on our way back. We’ve got civvies in tow. A lot of them. Be on the lookout.” He glanced over at Fiika. “Hope you’re up for some trailblazing. We’ll need to clear a path for a group this large.”

* * *

 

Theron was soaked and felt like a drowned womp rat. He probably looked it, too. His poncho was hung up on a tent pole, over a portable heater. It’d stopped dripping. That was a good sign.

His socks were hung up, too, and his boots were sitting near the heater.

He had a thermal blanket on like a cape and sat next to Pattik. The pair of them had scalding cups of caf in hand. Well, Pattik did. Theron had plain ol’ boiled water. He swore off caf, and he was staying off it. Even if Kanner gave him weird looks when he turned it down.

“What kind of S.I.S. agent doesn’t drink caf?” she’d asked, incredulous.

And Theron had taken his mug of hot water rather aggressively. “I don’t.”

Pattik had remained silent while Kanner cleaned up the gear. When the soldier was out of earshot, he turned to him. “Why did you give up caf?”

“I…” Theron shrugged. “I was drinking so much I couldn’t sleep for days. My hands shook so badly I could hardly write.” He didn’t add why he drank so much. How he couldn’t sleep. He’d close his eyes and see Ziost again, or be remembered of Marr’s ship being torn into two. Fiika and Pattik were dead for all he knew. Lana…

She’d dropped out of contact after a year. Theron had sleepless nights up at the holocommunicator, trying to find her, trying to make sure she was alive. He’d already lost someone he cared for. He couldn’t lose her too. He couldn’t. So he spent every waking hour looking for her, and took not just caf, but energy stimulants to keep the waking hours coming.

When he’d nearly gotten another agent killed, he was let go from the S.I.S. He was no longer an asset.

Pattik was dead, Fiika was dead. Lana… he couldn’t even find her. And Zakuul was tearing the galaxy to sheds.

He’d gotten a knock on his door, the day he’d been fired, to find Grand Master Satele standing there. She’d stared at him, not quite sure what to say. Her expression had been guarded, but her eyes… under her emotionless mask she looked worried.

Theron had wanted to shut the door in her face while simultaneously ask her for help to find Lana. Satele _had_ to be able to sense her. She had to. But he’d instead felt the floor tip under him and everything went black.

He’d woken up in a medbay to be told that he’d passed out from sheer exhaustion. The medic calmly, and then not-so-calmly, explained that Theron had to get sleep and give up his caf. Not all of it, but enough that it wasn’t the only thing he drank. The energy stimulants were thrown right out the window.

Since then… Theron had maybe had enough cups of caf that he could count them on one hand. He wouldn’t tempt himself to the breaking point again.

Pattik seemed to pick up that there was more unsaid than Theron’s unsatisfactory answer, but the Jedi didn’t pry. Jedi never did.

“Yeah. So I don’t drink caf.” Theron knocked his water against Pattik’s mug. “To this rain.”

“To the rain.” The massive Jedi drained his mug in one go. The mug looked small in his hands.

They sat there in cold silence, feet slowly being warmed up by the heater. Other members of Havoc slowly joined them. Two were always scouting the swamp, but those not on duty were around the heater.

Theron looked up as a mass of people seemed to materialize out of the fog. Havoc got up to help organize it all. Jorgan was leading them, but where-

He shoved down a laugh. Fiika brought up the rear, absolutely covered in soot and completely soaked through. She looked miserable. There was a vibrosword slung across her back alongside a Skytrooper rifle. Theron noticed that her main vibro-knives were missing.

“Wipe that grin off your face, Theron.” She sat down beside him and took his mug of hot water. She dipped the corner of her poncho in it and started wiping her face. “I’m not feeling rather humorous right now, you clod.”

“You know you’re just smearing the soot around, right?”

She glared at him. “Got a better idea, do you?”

Pattik leaned over. “His poncho is almost dry.”

“Perfect.”

Theron gave the Jedi a half-assed glare. “So. What happened to get you all… sooty?”

Fiika buried her face in his poncho and rubbed her face. Her voice came out muffled.

“What?”

“Skytroopers attacked these exile’s homes.” She looked up, face now red and ash still collected around her nostrils and eyebrows. “I helped them get out before they were burned down.” Fiika eagerly took an offered protein bar from Pattik. “And,” she continued, taking a bite. “There’s black Skytroopers. They’re bloody terrible. I mean really bloody terrible.” She shoved the rest of the bar in her mouth.

Theron swore as he tried to access the holonet to send a message to Lana about the black Skyrtooper. Damn this swamp.

He felt like he’d lost a sense because of the lack of holonet access.

Jorgan joined them by the heater, mug of caf in hand. “Listen, Jedi. This alliance may be your show, but these soldiers? They’re my responsibility. We clear?”

Pattik held up his hands peacefully. “I came only to meet you, not demand obedience.”

“Hm…” Jorgan sipped his caf and turned his scowl on Fiika. “You’re not what I expected. Not entirely.”

“Oh, what’s that, some impy sith-code-citing imbecile who’s got a hard-on for the Empire?” Fiika looked like she was trying to hide a smile, and failing. “Not to worry, you’re not what I was expecting either. You’re more reasonable.”

Theron shook his head, trying to not burst out in laughter. Fiika had a way with being blunt that made him crack up. Sure, it was a test to see the other’s mettle, but how she went about just struck him as funny. Pattik look a mix of exasperation and amusement.

Jorgan, to his credit, hadn’t batted  eye. “I’ll you all in the morning. Oh-seven-hundred.” He paused, and give Fiika one last look, respect in his eye. “You saved a lot of lives today.”

Theron whipped his head around when his implant lit up.

Someone was accessing the ‘net.

He wondered if they’d let him piggyback their signal. He had a few things he had to do.

* * *

 

He’d almost been tempted to call for a medic to prescribe him something to sleep, but that would require admitting, out loud, to someone else, that he couldn’t sleep. And that it was bad enough that he needed help.

And Arcann was far too proud to admit such… _weak_ things about himself.

His solution was to spend a day doing grueling training, never letting himself have a moment’s rest. Just him, constantly battling Knights, weights added to his arm and legs to force him to train harder.

He was completely exhausted by the time the sun had gone down.

Now he sat on his couch, empty mug of cocoa in hand. It’d been Mother’s trick to get him or his siblings to sleep as children. Something about a warm belly, she’d said. Arcann looked down at the mug. Mother had some secret recipe for cocoa that, despite his and Vaylin’s best efforts, couldn’t be recreated.

With a pang he realized that he still missed her.

Mother had hummed constantly, she burst into their rooms unannounced and would throw pillows at them with the Force, she made them sit still for their lessons, fuss over any dirt on his clothes. It’d all been annoying as a boy.

And Arcann missed it.

He set the mug down on an end table and laid down on the couch, too worn out to move. Now if only sleep could finally come…

* * *

 

_Arcann was blasted in the face with sand._

_Cool wind tore through his robes. He raised a hand to block it, gritting his teeth. The grains hit his hand with tiny little pin pricks, and he could feel sand sliding down his sleeve._

_His lightsaber was heavy in his other hand, clutching it tightly. Sweat was making the grip slippery._

_He was after those Jedi._

_They came at him in a single wave, hardly more than a handful of them. Father hand said that they were the opposite of the Sith; they did not use their emotions to fuel their attacks._

_Arcann found them the same. Both Jedi and Sith were hardly a challenge to him._

_He spun and parried the barrage of attacks. He didn’t play around and taunt them like Thexan had with the Sith. Arcann dodged the weak jab from the last Jedi and flicked his wrist. He sliced the Jedi in half._

_“NO!” A man leapt at him, lightsaber flashing. He was a blur as he railed at Arcann._

_The Jedi had caught him by surprise. Arcann was forced to backtrack to defend himself._

_Then the Jedi slowed for a beat._

_And Arcann stole back the advantage. He pressed forward, easily deflecting the attacks and sidestepping the pitiful defensive attempted. The Jedi was starting to see that fighting him was hopeless. Panic made his movements haphazard, made him try to seek cover behind a pillar._

_A missile went screeching between them and hit the pillar._

_Arcann roared as shrapnel sliced his face. It hurt, Izak help him, all he could think of was the pain-_

_The Jedi._

_He pushed past Arcann-_

_His vision turned white and he screamed._

_Everything was numb. He couldn’t- His ears were ringing, he couldn’t move. He lay there in the sand, staring at his arm a couple feet away. Black boots were running at him, scuffed and dusty and-_

_He looked over at the Jedi’s apprentice that he’d killed. He was a man, barely more than a boy. He hadn’t been prepared for Arcann. None of the Jedi had been._

_But-_

_Arcann screamed._

_The apprentice he killed wasn’t there. Instead it was that cursed girl Fiika, face gray and bloodless. Her eyes were empty. Dead._

_Had-_

_Had he-_

_No, he’d sworn that day in the throne room; promised her she’d live, no, she- she was-_

_“NO!” he bellowed. She had been kind. Who would be kind now? Who would look at him and not see a monster- Or did she, after Asylum? And-_

_Arcann realized that if she were dead, Father would be somewhere else, in someone else-_

_“Brother!”_

_Thexan_

_The pain in his shoulder, his whole body, hit him again and- No, his arm- his arm, it- Arcann roared in pain. He couldn’t focus on her, he couldn’t think, no, it was unbearable. It was just him existing in the world of pain._

_“Arcann!”_

_He forced his eyes open to see Thexan staring down at him, eyes filled with horror. Blood tricked out of his mouth. Arcann glanced down and screamed. A gash was along his belly, impossibly deep, and-_

_He’d done that, in the throne room._

_“Why?” Thexan choked out. “I thought you loved me.”_

_“THEXAN! NO!” Arcann screamed as his twin toppled over alongside Fiika. It was impossible to tell which was worse: his arm, or lack thereof, or his brother’s death. “Thexan.”_

_‘Look at what you’ve done. The devastation you’ve caused.’ Father’s voice swarmed through the sandstorm. ‘You killed your brother. My favorite of you two. And you had to go and kill the girl you care for. I raised you better.’_

_Arcann felt hot tears pouring down his cheeks. “Father! Help, please!”_

_‘You’ve started a war you cannot win, boy. Will you be responsible for your mother’s death? Your sister’s? You have already killed your brother and father.’_

_“FATHER!” He was sobbing now, he couldn’t- the pain, he was going to die in agony, lying in the sand. There were shadows in the sandstorm around him. “FATHER!”_

_‘You are a disappointment.’_

_The sand next to him exploded._

_Through the haze of pain, his vision dark at the edges, Arcann stared up at the sky. The sand was gone for a heartbeat, and he could see why the world was suddenly on fire._

_The Eternal Fleet hung in the atmosphere, in the midst of bombardment._

_‘How does it feel to be as weak as those you slaughtered?’_

Arcann sat up in a cold sweat. He’d rolled over and his cybernetic arm was pinching his human one.

_Stop this, Father._

Silence. Arcann reached out with his senses. He couldn’t pick up on Father anywhere. Vaylin’s presence was a few rooms down the hall, a floor below Knights were patrolling.

Father wasn’t doing this to him. It was his own dream.

And that made it all the worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y'all! Sorry it's been a while. College and all. I did write a short story and that's up on Amazon for kindle purchase. Here's the link if you're interested: https://www.amazon.com/Showgirls-Downfall-Carter-Ash-ebook/dp/B0799F39GJ/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1518843954&sr=8-1&keywords=a+showgirls+downfall


	14. A Minor Invasion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fiika and Jorgan attack an outpost. Theron and Lana have some things they need to work out. And Arcann is utterly done with his father tormenting him.

Theron watched Fiika fall face-first into a bedroll. She’d ditched her sooty poncho, boots, and her socks hung near one of the little heaters in the sleeping tents, in an attempt to get them dry. Her wet and muddy pants, though… she’d done her best to clean them off, but he was sure there was dirt or ash caked in the seams.

She looked like she fell asleep the moment her face met the pillow.

He didn’t have that luxury at the moment. Theron had taken over Havoc’s tiny little holonet feed that was for the basic news. It was now his link to Odessen, to discuss plans with Lana.

A little hologram of her appeared on the stone ledge he’d set his communicator on. “Bloody- Theron, you look terrible. And- where are you?”

He self-consciously ran a hand through his deflated hair. The gel had long since lost the battle against the rain. “Thanks,” he said flatly. “I feel as good as I look, apparently. It’s been raining since we landed, and cold, too.”

“Which is where? You didn’t tell me you were leaving.”

“Zakuul.”

Lana’s already thin lips became a line of pure displeasure. “Zakuul,” she repeated. “Might I inquire as to why?” 

“Havoc Squad. They’re thinking of joining the Alliance.”

She blinked. It was the only giveaway that she was surprised. “ _ The _ Havoc Squad?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re finally telling me now?”

Theron stamped down on the guilt. “Yeah.”

Lana sighed. “And what do you need?”

“I don’t know yet. Pat and Major Jorgan and I are about to sit down and discuss the specifics. You might want to start getting packed to come here. I suspect we’re going to need you.” Theron grinned at her look. “Take it this way: you’ll get a break from the hot weather on Odessen.”

Lana gave him an unamused look and signed off.

Theron tucked his holocommunicator away. He should’ve told her that he was bringing Pattik and Fiika here. Instead of it being a good surprise when they got back, she was irritated.

He shook away his emotions and rejoined the command tent.

Pattik was leaning against a table, eyes shut and breathing slowly. Theron knew he was meditating, not actually sleeping upright. Major Jorgan had a cup of caf in one hand, datapad in the other. And Pashna Veynard, the leader of the exiles, sat tiredly in a folding chair.

Major Jorgan nodded at him. “Alright, Havoc, gather ‘round.” He set his datapad in the middle of the table and flicked on a holoprojector. A miniature little building lit up the tent. “A source of mine in the S.I.S. entrusted us with an interesting piece of intelligence not long ago. I’m guessing we have Theron to thank for that, but it’s the reason we’re all here.”

Havoc, Veynard, and Pattik all looked at him.

Theron cleared his throat. “No comment.”

Major Jorgan cracked a lopsided smile. “The data identified a planetary transmitter within a Zakuul Knight outpost. Havoc’s mission is to plant a wiretap on that equipment.”

A wiretap could be a game-changing advantage. Knowing where Knights were, maybe even Fleet ships… the Alliance could go full guerilla and eat away at Arcann’s forces. The Gravestone could appear out of nowhere and take out Fleet ships…

Theron bit back a grin as he let his imagination run with it.

Pattik seemed less excited. “What are you hoping to accomplish, Major?”

Someone gently nudged Theron to his left. He looked down and met a thoroughly irritated glare from Fiika as she joined the little circle around the table. “I thought you called it a night?” he whispered.

She stared back. “Lord Beniko isn’t happy with you. She just messaged me to tell you that I am now supervising you as if I’m her.”

“Sure.”

Major Jorgan toggled the hologram to highlight sensor arrays lining the roof, giving them both a look to shut up. “We get a direct line on their communications and Havoc can start hitting high-level targets. All across the Spire.”

“And evade retaliation,” added Kanner.

“We’d be ghosts.”

“Deadly, heavily armed, ghosts.”

Theron wasn’t sure of all of Havoc’s names yet, but the squad definitely liked this idea. A lot. He couldn’t blame them. He’d been itching to stick it to Arcann after the past five years himself.

Fiika cleared her throat of sleep. “This sounds like something Havoc could have accomplished already.”

Every Republic pair of eyes turned on her. Theron superistously took a step away from her.

“Imp,” hissed Kanner under her breath.

Fiika fixed her with a frightening look, enhanced with her red eyes and ash still in her hair. “Do you really want to start that?”

“Kanner!” Major Jorgan snapped. He looked directly at Fiika. “Deploying the wiretap without it being discovered will either take a month of prep or a really big distraction.” He turned to Pattik. “If you’re willing to commit the resources, we can move on this immediately.”

Pattik drummed his fingers on the table. “Pashna.”

The exile leader jumped in his skin. “Me?”

“What’s the best way to get the Knight’s attention?”

Veynard frowned, thinking. “The only things that would require them to move in force would be widespread panic or evacuation.”

“Then it’s decided.” Pattik nodded at Theron. “Send word to Odessen. We’re going on the offensive.”

“You’re really going to attack Arcann’s forces?” Veynard’s voice was a pitch higher.

Theron shrugged to calm him down. “Just enough to get their attention. We don’t have the forces for a real invasion.”

Major Jorgan flicked off the hologram. “Your people can handle the diversion. I want you-” He pointed at Fiika- “along for the strike on the transmitter. We’re going to need every heavy hitter we’ve got, and you more than qualify. And you, Master, you be front and center with the attack. You’re the Alliance leader. I’ll bet Arcann will be gunning for you.”

Fiika sighed. “And now we plan?”

Theron nodded. “And now we plan.”

“Great. Who needs sleep when you got five years of it in carbonite.”

* * *

 

Lana hadn’t remembered the swamp being this foul last time she’d been in it. Of course, she’d been on the run from Skytroopers, without a ship, and accompanied with Fiika having cold attacks left and right.

Koth was whistling softly on her right. 

“Can you stop?” Senya whispered.

“Stop what?”

“The whistling.”

Koth went silent for a beat, then resumed.

_ Force help me. _

Lana shoved away her annoyance to deal with later. Their bickering was a distraction she didn’t need, even less so with Kaliyo encouraging them on, especially when she was having problems focusing enough as it was. Lana’s mind kept bringing Theron to the forefront. Theron and how he didn’t inform her that he was going to Zakuul, let alone recruit Havoc Squad.

Her hand twinged.

She pulled the glove on tighter. It was hypocritical of her to be furious that he didn’t tell her what he’d gone off to do. She still hadn’t told him that half her right hand was cybernetic.

But she was still thoroughly upset at him. He didn’t know about her hand, and he’d just up and left. In fact, he’d probably lied. She’d sensed something about the yellow jacket he said he’d found online, and put it down to him playing a prank and getting it in her size. She’d take a horrible yellow-version of his jacket over him lying any day.

Some swamp creature roared off in the distance, silencing Koth’s whistling.

“Thank the gods,” Senya muttered. She gave him a dark look.

Kaliyo started humming ‘ _ 99 bottles of Corellian beer on the wall _ ’.

Lana mustered the patience to not snap at any of them. “We’re almost there.”

“Good.” Koth shook out one foot in disgust. “I’ve almost forgotten what dry socks feel like.”

“Does complaining about it every five minutes make it easier on you?”

Koth’s glare at Senya was anything but civil. “Would you rather have me complain about you?”

“How ‘bout you complain about the humidity again?” Kaliyo paused in her humming.

“You’re like children! Can the three of you be silent for the next ten minutes?” Lana hissed. “I am well aware that both of you would rather be paired with nearly anyone else, and at the moment, so would I, if only to not hear you two bickering like spoiled toddlers!” She turned her glare onto Kaliyo. “You stop antagonizing them for your entertainment or…” Lana let the threat hang in the air, if only because she couldn’t think of something that would actually result in Kaliyo behaving like a practical sentient being.

Senya and Koth stared back at her, silent. Kaliyo looked disinterested. Their eyes flicked to something over her shoulder.

“Glad you could make it. Lana-” Theron’s voice came from behind her.

She whirled, pointing a finger at him. “And you!”

Theron took a step back, tripped over a tree root, and landed on his ass in swamp water. To his credit, he didn’t seemed phased by that. He looked more concerned over the fury Lana left. “Me?”

“I spent the entire flight here listening to these two  _ children _ arguing, and you didn’t even tell me you were here in the first place.” Lana grabbed his hand and yanked him to his feet. “I am not in a pleasant mood, Theron. You lied to me, I’m back in this wretched swamp, and-”

He was staring at the hand holding his, brows knit together in confusion.

Stars above, she’d helped him up with her right hand.

Lana pulled her hand away, her anger rising. “And I blame you.”

“I wanted to recruit Havoc as a surprise. Morale boost for everyone.”

“You could have bloody told me!”

“Now you’re sounding like Fiika.” Theron’s smile was as dry as the swamp was wet. He nodded at Senya and Koth. “Come on. We’re almost at the camp. There’s caf and heaters to dry your clothes.”

“Good,” Senya said.

Lana sloshed beside Theron as he led them through the murk.

“And she complains about us arguing like kids and then she goes at Shan like that-”

“Koth, I can hear you!” Lana called over her shoulder.

* * *

 

Fiika decided Jorgan could make a mean cup of caf. It was the strongest she’d ever had, and that was including the stuff her uncle used to drink that still had the grounds in it. “Filter it with your teeth, darlin’,” he’d said to her when she spat it out.

She bit her tongue to keep the pain at bay.

Ziost had been decimated over five years ago, but for her… not even a year.

_ Damn you, Valkorian. _

He didn’t respond.

_ You bastard. _

Kanner sat down beside her at the heater. “Who’d you lose?”

Fiika realized there were hot tears running down her cheeks. She swiped at them and chugged down her caf, not wanting to answer the soldier.

Kanner didn’t seem to notice that Fiika wasn’t feeling talkative. As most Republicans did. They took friendly to a new level. “My husband was a trader for the Republic. The Fleet wiped out his entire envoy. I lost him, then my parents were killed on Coruscant when the blockade didn’t lift. Arcann took my family from me. Who’re you here for?”

Fiika stared stiffly up at Kanner. “Ziost.”

“Oh.”

“Valkorian took everything from me, and I’ll be damned if Arcann takes anything else. But he’s not the caliber of monster his father was. He’s… different.” Fiika drained her caf and went to get more, not wanting to continue the conversation.

Kanner followed her. “He’s different? Arcann has the galaxy in a stranglehold!”

“Arcann hasn’t killed entire planets. Arcann-” Fiika took a deep breath, stamping out her anger and grief over Ziost. “I don’t trust him as far as I could throw him. He promised me anything I wanted if I helped him kill Valkorian, then let me be frozen for five years as a trophy on his wall. Then he stabbed me on Asylum. Now… The revenge he took on those five planets. I despise him. Not as much as I despise Valkorian, though.” She fixed Kanner with a sharp look. “Does Major Jorgan approve of you gossiping?”

The soldier didn’t flinch. “I want to know who Havoc will be working with. You’re Imperial. I had to know what your goals are against Arcann, and that you’re not just fighting against him to weaken us ‘Pubs’.”

“Get your head out of your arse. If I was in this to end the Republic, I’d be dead by now.” Fiika caught sight of Theron returning with Lord Beniko, Koth, and Senya. She left Kanner standing by the caf and approached them. “Glad to see you, M’Lord.”

Lord Beniko’s bad mood became apparent. “How’s the camp?”

“Alright. Don’t speak with Kanner; she’s trying to determine if I’m a diehard Imperial in this Alliance to simply to end the Republic.”

“Perfect.” Lord Beniko’s frown deepened as she and Theron went off deeper into the camp.

Fiika pulled Koth aside. “How was the flight here?”

“Could’ve been better.” He glared in the direction of Senya. “Could’ve been worse. I mean, you could’ve been piloting.”

She gaped in mock outrage. “How dare you, Captain Vortena.” At his grin, she continued. “At least I don’t look like I went swimming in the swamp.”

“Yeah? You’ve ash or some soot or something on your nose, so look who’s talking.” He pressed a quick kiss on her forehead. “You smell like the swamp.”

“You do too.” Fiika handed him the mug of fresh caf. “And you look cold.”

“Thanks.” Koth nodded past her. “I think Theron’s telling us to get our butts over there.”

She looked over her shoulder to see Theron making a less-than-amused expression and waving her and Koth towards the command tent. “Let’s see what he’d got to say.”

* * *

 

Father was going to drive him mad with the nightmares.

Arcann paced in his sitting room, half-dressed. He’d left his armor and boots behind, his mask on it’s stand, lightsaber-

He whirled, sensing someone behind him.

Nothing.

Someone knocked on his door.

“What?” he snarled.

Vaylin walked in, busy on her datapad. “I’ve been thinking, dear brother. We should do a themed gala this week. Maybe come dressed in outlander fashion, to show that stupid Alliance that we-” She stopped, staring at him in shock.

Arcann stared back. “What?”

She slowly grinned and started cackling. “You- Arcann- You still-” Vaylin collapsed on the couch, hysterical.

“What?!”

Vaylin raised a finger, shaking it. “Oh, no, dear brother. Oh-” she snorted. “You- you still think about that outlander Fiika, yes? Don’t- Don’t deny it, I know you do.”

Arcann regarded her suspiciously.

“And you- you honestly think you’ve got a chance with her, after you’ve… Wait, let me count.” Vaylin started ticking them off on her fingers. “Froze her, re-froze her, tried to kill her on Asylum, and then sent me to bomb five systems because you couldn't find her?”

“Those bombings were for for the Alliance against us.  _ She _ is unimportant. I do not-”

“And you-” Vaylin stifled another bout of laughter. “You think she’ll find you- what, attractive?” She motioned to the side of her face. “I believe you forgot to finish getting dressed this morning.”

Arcann touched his face, feeling the scars. They were far too deep for the Zakuulan medics to fix. And with Father tormenting him every night- Izak take him, this was the first time she’d seen him without the mask. He wouldn't admit it out loud ever, but Arcann was ashamed of the scars. Ashamed that he failed on Korriban and had to look at them everyday. “I’m not done getting dressed, sister.” He glared at her. “I wear that mask for a reason.”

“I see.” She snorted again. “I’m sorry for laughing, but the idea of her finding you attractive…”

He gave her a long look. “Are you done yet?”

“No, actually, I think I might laugh about this all day.” She kicked her boots off and stuck her feet up on the table. “What about a masquerade gala? Everyone wears masks? Oooh, outlander masquerade. Or is that too many themes?”

Arcann sunk down onto the couch opposite her, still running his fingers over the scars. “Vaylin,” he warned.

She sighed. “I’m not saying you’re ugly. I’m saying she’ll think you’re ugly. You’ve seen the outlander soldiers. They were helmets to protect their faces. They don’t have the medical skills to fix scars. So… I don’t think she’ll… If I hurt you with my laughter, my apologies, dear brother. I’ve never seen you without the mask.” She threw a pillow at him. “You do a very good job of always wearing it.”

“That is intentional.”

“Oooh! I got it. A masquerade gala, but you don’t wear your mask!” She was grinning spitefully at him, knowing full well that he’d hate it.

Arcann pretended to think about it, and tease her. “Why not?”

Her eyebrows flew up in surprise. “Really?”

“You have kept pointing out over the past couple months that I am… how did you put it… alone? And as Emperor, I ought to have heirs.” He kept his face plastered with a thoughtful look. “Perhaps I should begin looking for a consort. They should know what I look like under the mask, so why not reveal my face to everyone at once?”

Vaylin’s mouth hung agape. “You- no.”

Arcann dropped the act. “Obviously not.”

“You know I believed you, for a moment, until you mentioned a consort.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “You wouldn’t do as Father did. You’d find a  _ wife _ .” Vaylin spat out the word like it was something foul.

“So certain, are you? Maybe I’ll have a couple consorts, as many as I please-”

“You can stop!” Vaylin threw another pillow at him. “I don’t want to think about that!”

Arcann pressed his advantage. “Or you could have a consort-”

“I know you set me up with those men asking me for dances at that one gala!”

“Yes, the gala where you sent a woman who looked like Fiika to seduce me.” He threw the pillow back at her. “I thought you did not want to think about that.”

“Oh, so you thought she looked like her?” Vaylin grinned victoriously. “So you do fancy her. Do you want her to be your consort- Hey!”

Arcann threw another pillow at her. “Indo Zal said he has an older brother looking for-”

“No!”

“Or a Knight, someone-”

“Alright, there, I surrender. We can stop this conversation.” Vaylin fixed her hood from where a pillow had knocked it astray. “If any of us was going to have heirs, it was Thexan. You know I caught him kissing a Knight during training?”

“Oh, her.” Arcann pinched the bridge of his nose. “Thexan was not as discreet as he should have been.”

“What happened to her?”

“She…” Arcann paused. “I don’t know.”

“Hm.” Vaylin picked up her datapad. “So… I’m guessing the masquerade gala theme is a no?”

“That is correct.”

“Outlander theme it is.” She grinned at him. “Unless… you want to do a consort theme with everyone showing up in-”

Arcann held up another pillow. “The door is behind you.”

She heaved herself to her feet and gave him a dark look for making her get up. Vaylin paused at the door, looking back at him. “Don't worry, brother,  _ I'll _ love you no matter what your face looks like.”

* * *

Her poncho was mostly dry, and was mostly sufficient. It was… damp. Like everything else. Fiika had her hair braided back into a tight bun. It would deter the usual flyaways. She didn’t need any distraction for this mission.

Havoc’s tiny transport bucked as it dropped below the tree canopy.

Abbeth was… he was as sufficient as pilot as to how damp clothing in the swamp was sufficient: mostly. At best.

Fiika caught Koth’s eye.

He grimaced as the transport rocked to the right. Neither of them liked anyone else piloting.

She leaned over. “Enjoying not being in the pilot’s seat?”

“Do I look like I am?”

“Now you know how I feel.”

Koth shifted as close as he could with the safety harness. “Yeah, but I’m a better pilot than you,” he teased.

Fiika grinned. “That so? You still haven’t let me handle the Gravestone. Are you scared that I’ll outshine you?”

“Can it, you two,” Jorgan growled. “Save the banter for later.” He frowned fiercely at them until both were settled back in their seats.

Koth gave her a wink as soon as Jorgan looked away.

Fiika turned her attention back to watching Abbeth’s progress through the trees as the ship tilted. A hiss told her the landing gear was currently being lowered. A beat later, and the sounds of the swamp filled the cabin as the boarding ramp was released.

Jorgan lead Havoc down the stairs, Koth, Theron, and Master Pattik in tow.

Lord Beniko had paused, absentmindedly playing with the glove on her right hand.

“My lord?” Fiika asked.

“Hm?”

“Everything alright?”

Lord Beniko’s expression shifted to something unreadable. “Yes, of course.”

_ You’re lying. To me. _

The Sith must’ve sensed the hurt she felt. “Fiika-” She sighed and started down the ramp. “Not now. Later. When there are less ears.”

Fiika followed her look to Theron. He was talking to Koth, nodding and priming heavy fire cartridges for his twin blasters. “I doubt certain ears are listening.” Theron and eavesdropping-while-talking was like rain on Tatooine: It was theoretically possible but had never happened. The spy had a habit of switching mid-conversation to repeat whoever he was eavesdropping on. That he was talking to Koth at all told Fiika he couldn’t be listening to them.

Lord Beniko gave her a dark look. “Let’s  just say that the humidity is not agreeing with me.”

“Certainly.” Fiika fixed her with a polite smile. “Your hair’s curling.”

“Who’s hair’s what?” Theron joined them, holstering his pistols.

Lord Beniko remained silent, not mentioning the half-ponytail keeping her hair from getting too distracting in the rain, nor the pale flyaways that were curling around her ears. She’d allowed Fiika to pin her bangs back after they’d kept clinging to her forehead.

“I-”

“Let’s move out!” roared Jorgan.

“May the force serve you well.” Fiika nodded goodbye to them and joined Jorgan. Havoc and the Alliance members slowly faded away into the fog.

She pulled her poncho tighter around her, shivering.

“Ready?” Jorgan aimed his liquid-cable launcher at the top of a rock outcrop.

Fiika fired hers as an answer, and together they scaled the cliff wall.

Atop the cliff, amongst a collection of ferns and mud, they had a view of the Knight outpost. It didn’t look particularly impressive. The main building sat in the middle of a shallow lake; the roof disappearing into the heavy fog above. A bridge connected it to the land from a landing pad that was large enough to double as a dock for a decent collection of swoop bikes.

The entire outpost didn’t look distinctively important, and that did not sit well with Fiika at all. If this was the place of a planetary transmitter, why wasn’t it protected as such? She frowned as she studied it through her macro-binoculars. No seams along the durasteel for hidden turrets, no tiny blemishes on the guardrails for trip-wire sensors.

Not even pressure plates on the bridge or security cameras aimed at the outpost. The only ones she could see were specifically directed towards a very large family of wingmaws on the far side of the pond.

“Nothing out of the ordinary.” Jorgan looked up from his rifle’s scope. “Give the order when ready.”

Fiika raised her comm. “Theron. Begin the attack.”

“Copy.” The comm crackled. “Let’s go!”

Off in the distance, something exploded. Around Fiika and Jorgan, the swamp became alive with screeching creatures upset and alarmed with the wave of sound that hit them.

“I think the detonite worked,” Fiika said mildly.

Jorgan didn’t respond; he was back to peering through his scope and watching a squadron of Knights trot out of the outpost and climb aboard the swoop bikes. The engines’ whines added to the racket as the Knights raced towards the explosion.

“I think that’s the best we’re going to get.” Jorgan raised his own comm. “Havoc, keep us covered and watch for reinforcements. We’re going in.”

“Copy, Major,” came Kanner’s voice from the tiny speaker.

Fiika hooked her liquid-cable launcher at the rock at their feet and started down the cliff. A curious Iknayid got squashed under her boot before it could crawl up her leg. She landed in a puddle and stowed her launcher back on her belt.

Jorgan joined her a moment later.

Together they slunk through the murk.

Fiika didn’t like that there were no sentries on guard at the ramp leading to the bridge. Judging by Jorgan’s glare and how he kept scanning the surrounding trees, he felt the same.

She pulled her Skytrooper rifle around as they started down the bridge. Lining it at random intervals were storage crates, some tagged with little notes and others with rust beginning to built up along the seams.

And then she understood why there were no sentries.

Because at the end of the bridge, hidden behind a rather large storage container, was one of the black Skytroopers.

“Dammit,” swore Jorgan.

Nothing happened.

The Skytrooper didn’t move. In fact-

Fiika slung her rifle back behind her back and waved daintily at the droid.

Nothing.

“Agent Allos!” Jorgan hissed at her. “What are you-”

“I don’t think it’s on.” She approached the droid. It’s lights were on, yes, but the power core wasn’t humming at full capacity. It was just lit up and placed there for sheer appearance’s sake. 

The Major was still hanging back. “Something’s not right.”

Fiika circled the Skytrooper. There were no extra battery packs, no out-of-place looking wires, no blatantly obvious explosives wired along it’s interior.

_ Maybe some Zakuulans have a sense of humor and this is a prank between Knights? _

She leaned in close, studying it’s arm and built-in flame-thrower. “Do you-”

The Skytrooper beeped and the power core began thrumming as it turned up to full power. Words flashed across its eyes:  _ Defense Mode Activated.  _

_ Oh no. _

Fiika backtracked to Jorgan. “The bloody thing’s being turned on to defense mode.”

“Probably being controlled from inside the outpost since most of the Knights are gone.” He leveled his rifle at the Skytrooper and started pounding it’s chestplate with heavy fire.

The Skytrooper didn’t seem to notice. It stomped towards they, flamethrower beginning to warm up-

“We need support. Can’t kill it with firepower.” Jorgan backed up to the next set of storage crates.

Fiika ducked down behind one and pulled out her comm. “Mission team in need of assistance! Any available forces move to flank!” A wave of heat on her right told her the black Skytrooper had just used its flamethrower. And there were only so many storage boxes to hide behind.

* * *

 

Theron had decided for himself that Skytroopers were just going to be one of those things he wasn’t sure if he hated or not. Of course, he’d decided that before this mission, and since then his opinion had changed.

He still had to give credit to the Eternal Empire for having an entire army of droids so no Zakuulans would be killed in battle; in fact, he even respected it on some level.

But then Skytroopers were just plain annoying.

Wave after wave seemed to materialize out of the fog as fast as they could cut them down. Lana, Senya, and Pattik were only visible to him because of their lightsabers cutting through the murk. Koth was close by, alternating between firing his assault rifle and pitching grenades. And Kaliyo… Theron wasn’t exactly interested in what she was doing; he just knew it was working a little too well because sometimes she’d cackle and send chills down his spine. Or an electric spring trap would go off and he could see her grinning.

He fired a quick round of shots at the last Skytrooper and frowned. Why weren’t more coming? He’d made sure to hack into the surrounding sensors and shut them down, but not before he had Senya and Pattik walk past one to make sure the Knights saw them and raised the alarm. 

“That can’t have been all of them.” Lana joined him atop the fallen tree that Theron was using to survey everyone else.

“No, something’s not right.” He didn’t pick up anything on his implant. 

Lana was silent, lips pursed.

Theron knew she was completely irritated at him, and had every right to be. Hell, he was still slightly irritated that she dropped out of contact for nearly four years after Fiika’s supposed death on Marr’s ship. But- he toed a patch of moss on the tree. Bottling it up would do nothing good. He glanced at her and caught Lana fiddling with the glove on her right hand.

She’d been fiddling with it since she arrived. Her hand had felt cold when she’d helped him up earlier.

“What?” Lana had caught him watching her.

“I think we need to talk.” He winced at how that sounded. “That didn’t- Look, it’s nothing to worry about. I just want to…” Theron trailed off as he stared into the fog.

She followed his gaze. “Force help us.”

Skytroopers, armor black and taller than usual, were marching towards their little warparty. Koth and Senya were backtracking. Kaliyo didn’t notice and started firing at them. Her shots did nothing but give her position away, and Theron learned a new curse as she dodged the fire.

Senya pointed at the approaching black Skytroopers. “Those are made for heavy assault. Blasterfire won’t work on them.” Her jaw was locked.

Theron’s comm went off and Fiika’s voice came out slightly breathlessly. “Mission team in need of assistance! Any available forces move to flank!”

Lana met his look. “We can’t. Not with these.” She nodded at the Skytroopers. Pattik, Koth, Kaliyo… they were already engaged. Senya vaulted away from them to take attention away from Pattik.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and spoke into his comm. “We’re falling back, but we’re heavily engaged.” A stray blasterbolt whistled past his ear. “You’re going to have to hold out.”

Fiika’s probably-sassy retort was lost in another explosion as Kaliyo hit one with a thermal grenade, and the droid burst into flames.

Only-

Theron cursed as he realized it was a flame-thrower.

* * *

 

“We’re on our own for now!” Agent Allos bellowed at Aric.

“Great!” he bellowed back, even though it was anything but. Aric hated Skytroopers to begin with, and he hated this swamp, hated-

Well, no, he didn’t hate how this black Skytrooper was harder to kill. It was making it almost fun. At least, interesting.

He threw a thermal grenade and retreated to the final storage crate at the end of the bridge.

“Keep getting it to follow you!”

_ What do you think I’m doing? _

Aric gritted his teeth in annoyance at the Agent. Damn Imperials gave orders to everyone. He fired again at the droid, knowing full well it wouldn’t do anything but maybe heat up the armor.

She threw herself over a storage crate and buried a knife into the Skytrooper’s powercore. The knife sparked, she was thrown backwards, and the Skytrooper started to malfunction.

Jorgan cursed and fired another round of suppressive fire. 

Agent Allos picked herself up and threw another knife in a flash of silver. It was buried in the fuel tank of the Skytrooper.

_ Oh no. _

It was essentially a ticking time bomb. Which was great and all, it would definitely turn the Skytrooper to scrap, but it could easily make him and Agent Allos into charred corpses if they were too close.

And the bridge wasn’t particularly wide.

“Dammit,” he swore under his breath.

And that was when Agent Allos did something very stupid and very brave.

She tackled the Skytrooper. Shoulder down, right where it’s gut would’ve been if it were human. It was a good tackle. He told himself  was not going to be impressed by that. Except he was. She knew how to properly tackle someone.

_ She’d make a good defenseman on a Huttball team. _

Agent Allos had the Skytrooper pinned up against the bridge guardrail. She ducked under a punch, got her arm around one of it’s legs-

Aric saw what she was doing and hustled to join her. “I got it.”

Throwing the droid over the guardrail and into the swamp below would require more strength that what she had. Even if she had good leverage.

He grabbed the other Skytrooper leg and heaved.

And the droid fell over the guardrail. A second later, and there was a splash.

Agent Allos started smacking his arm. “You’re on fire.”

He looked down. His under-armor shirt was charred and- he took a quick whiff. Smelled like smoke. Great. Just what he needed. A hole in his shirt in the dampest place in the galaxy.

Aric and Agent Allos watched their step as they continued over the bridge to the outpost.

He still didn’t see any cameras or guards, or… anything.

_ Even if Arcann is certain this place isn’t discoverable, there would have to be people on watch. For swamp creatures. Or just a security measure. _

It was as if the swamp creatures had heard his thoughts, because a disturbingly large flock of wingmaws screeched above them.

“Emperor's underwear,” sighed Agent Allos. She caught his look. “Wingmaws seem to have a certain affection for me.”

He didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure how to respond.

The wingmaws, of course, responded by collectively screeching again and then dive-bombing them.

Aric and Agent Allos sprinted across the landing pad, splattering through puddles, and-

A pair of Knights were equally surprised to see them atop the ramp to the outpost entrance.

They stared at the Knights. The Knights stared back.

The wingmaws caught up to them.

“BLOODY BASTARDS!”Agent Allos roared. Her daggers pulled a wingmaw down and she threw the thing at the closest Knight.

Aric, meanwhile, was firing in the general direction of the Knights, hoping that if he at least didn’t hit the Knights, he’d hit the wingmaws. And so far, that plan wasn’t working as well as he’d hoped.

A gleam of red appeared on one Knight’s helmet, and-

_ Kanner. _

She’d sniped the Knight from afar. 

The other Knight fell a moment later.

“We’ve got you covered,” came Kanner’s voice in his earpiece.

The wingmaws screeched again and tore upwards in a spiral, deciding Aric and Agent Allos weren’t worth the effort. 

“Damn them to hell.” She wiped at a cut on her face and glanced at him. “Alright?”

“Fine.” Aric turned his attention to the outpost and frowned. Something wasn’t right with the door. It shimmered blue, and- Dammit, it was covered by a forcefield. He got closer and growled in frustration. Wires snaked around the energy casings. Detonite would be useless. Hell, lightsabers would be useless. “We’ve got a problem.”

* * *

 

Fiika hadn’t pinned Jorgan as someone who exaggerated, so when he said they had a problem, she felt her hopes plummet into her soggy boots.

Until she took a look at what he considered to be a problem.

“I don’t understand.”

The Major looked at her as if she was being obtuse on purpose. “Forcefield. We can’t get inside. And look at all the wires. There’s not enough time to go through and figure out which are powering the field.”

Fiika smiled faintly at him. “Or we simply take out the power couplings powering it.”

He opened and shut his mouth. “That… would work.  _ If _ they’re external.

She leaned in close to study the twisting wires. “I think they’d have to be. If this was a larger outpost, they’d have to be inside, but this…” Fiika trailed her fingers along the colored wires. “I reckon the couplings are hidden around here somewhere. At least two. Most of these wires are warm. They’ve got power in them.”

Jorgan didn’t move. He was frowning severely at the door.

“I can find them if you’d like to keep watch for any… guests.”

_ Like Knights or wingmaws. _

“Works for me.”

Fiika followed the bound cords of wires around the outpost. The red wires went back down to the landing pad, and if all three generators needed to be taken out, then she’d backtrack. But if only two needed to go to let them in… why waste the effort?

She frowned as the yellow wires went up into the fog.

_ What’s up there? _

She fired her liquid-cable launcher blindly into the murk and started climbing up the side of the outpost. Within moments she was surrounded by heavy mist that clung to her. The outpost wall was slick; her boots weren’t finding purchase easily. Fiika climbed higher.

A shadow loomed out of the clouds. A balcony. And tucked neatly under it, glowing faintly in the shadows, was a generator.

Fiika fired at it and smiled grimly as it burst into flames.

She released the recoil on her cable launcher and rappelled down.

“Anything?” Jorgan asked over the comms.

“Got one. Anything happen?”

“No.”

_ Brilliant. _

Fiika backtracked to follow the green wires. These were half-hidden in the seam of the floor, going all the way to-

She paused and looked over the railing, cursing.

The green wires went under the outpost.

“Jorgan, I’m dropping into the swamp.” Fiika swung herself over the railing. “Generator’s under the bloody outpost.” She landed with a splash.

His acknowledgement over the comms was a grunt.

_ How flattering. _

She waded  through the pilings, looking for the green wires-

Fiika slapped a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming.

An Iknayid, about the same size as her, stared down at her. Webbing laced the topmost parts of the pilings, accented with empty egg sacs and smaller, infant-sized Iknayids climbing over the webs.

She slowly pulled a grenade and armed it, chucking it at the insects.

The Iknayids didn’t seem phased. The small ones swarmed over the grenade stuck in the webbing.

Fiika dove behind the nearest non-Iknayid-infested piling and waited for the grenade to go off.

It did. And the Iknayids screeched painfully.

“What was that?” Joragn asked in a burst of static.

“Local wildlife. Now… wild-deceased.” Fiika stepped over the remnants of the huge iknayid and continued her search for the generator. It… she frowned. The wires didn’t continue past- She slowly turned and looked back up to where the Iknayids had been minutes ago.

On one of the pilings was a web-covered, charred-looking generator.

She aimed and fired.

The generator went the way of the Iknayids. 

“Something’s happening. Hang on.” Through the comm came the sounds of Jorgan firing his rifle. “No, still can’t get through. Field’s weaker, though.”

Fiika sighed and stared sloshing her way to the edge of the lake. Things squelched under her boots, she slipped on some algae covered… what she hoped were rocks, all while the fog clung to her like a cloak made of the essence of sogginess. If there was indeed at all a bright side, it was that she never fell into the lake and got completely soaked. Only from  the knees down was she actually wet.

She emerged, boots green from algae and whatever else was in the shallow lake, and started across the bridge.

On the landing pad, Fiika followed the red wires to a stack of storage crates not unlike the ones on the bridge. She walked around them, touching each bin, listening.

The generator was in a small one off to the side.

She pried it open with a few unkind words aimed at the bin and Zakuul’s weather in general, before she shoved a genade into the crate and hauled it back to Jorgan.

“Ready?” He looked at her expectantly.

The bin exploded in the distance.

Fiika nodded. “Let’s go.”

They watched as the force-field dimmed before puttering out.

Jorgan led the way in, Fiika covering their back. “Watch it!” he growled, and shoved her to the side around a corner.

Blasterfire peppered the wall where he’d been moments ago. 

“Skytroopers,” he spat.

She drew her daggers. “On your count.”

“Three, two, now!”

Fiika shot out from around the corner and barreled towards the Skytroopers on her left. She ducked under a rifle and slashed. The Skytrooper’s power core wasn’t connected to its hands anymore. The rifle it held was useless. She kicked the droid at another and whirled, flicking a dagger into the eye socket of another.

Jorgan mowed down the last pair. “Hope that’s it.”

“You’ve bloody jinxed it, I’ll bet.” Fiika plucked her dagger out of the fallen Skytrooper’s head and resheathed it. “Let’s get that wiretap and haul arse out of here.”

He didn’t waste time responding. Jorgan went straight to the biggest computer terminal and started scrolling through programs. He opened up the settings, and plugged in a data chip. “Now we wait.”

A little green download box opened up.

Fiika resigned herself to waiting. She studied the outpost interior. Something wasn’t adding up from the dimensions she thought it had from outside. It was too…

“We’re good.” Jorgan pocketed the data chip. “We- Blast.” He caught Fiika’s inquisitive look at him. “The good new: it works.”

She rested her hands on her daggers, scanning the room. “And the bad?”

“They know we’re here. Reinforcements are already inbound.” He raised his comm. “We’ve got incoming. Brace for a fight, Havoc!”

And Fiika finally realized what was wrong with the interior of the outpost. The reason the entrance was a behind a wall, creating a corridor, was because there was a lift in the middle of the room. It wasn’t particularly noticeable, no, Fiika was absolutely certain that she would’ve missed if her nerves weren’t on edge to begin with. It didn’t help that storage crates were stacked haphazardly around it, making it look like a closet.

But it was certainly not a closet.

“Major-”

The lift doors opened, revealing a rather large amount of Skytroopers.

Jorgan didn’t have time to react. He was still facing the computer terminal, and Fiika was right in the line of fire for the Skytroopers.

So she did what came first in her mind. She threw an acid grenade at the droids. Specifically, an acid grenade that had hardly any cooldown between when she pressed the button and it went off.

And then she hit the switch to close the lift.

The doors closed silently.

“What?” Jorgan walked over to her.

A muffled boom came from inside the lift.

He blinked. “Is that-”

“A lift? Yes. With Skytroopers? Yes. And did I throw a grenade in there and shut the doors? Yes. Now let’s get a move on.”

Jorgan didn’t challenge her on that. “Form up on the main entrance, we’re coming out.”

Kanner’s voice came right back out of the comm. “How’s it looking in there, Sir? It’s not pretty out here.”

Abbeth’s voice followed her’s. “They just keep coming!”

Fiika didn’t listen to see what else Havoc had to say. They had to get out of the outpost and get somewhere safe. She burst out of the outpost, vibro-knives drawn, and sprinted towards the bridge back to the foggy safety of the swamp.

Around the bridge entrance was a heavy firefight going on between Havoc and a horde of Skytroopers.

She was halfway down the ramp to the landing pad when the deep rumble of engines became audible. Wind tore through the swamp, whipping up fallen leaves. Bright lights fell onto the landing pad, blinding her.

And then something heavy landed.

Fiika blocked out the lights from the transport above and balked at the massive wardroid that’d just landed hardly forty feet from her.

It reminded her of the one on Marr’s ship, long ago, rattling the corridors and barely fitting into the engine room.

She spun her daggers and charged it, aiming for the exposed wiring in the legs.

Behind her, Jorgan yelled something lost in the chaos.

Fiika rolled out of the way of blastfire, and-

The wardroid let loose a concussion blast.

She found the world turned sideways as she flew through the air, stunned. Her ears were ringing-

Fiika cried out she hit the durasteel landing pad’s floor

Everything hurt. Knees, arms, ribs, head… she’d bit her bottom lip when she landed and her scars had reopened. She could taste blood.

The platform quaked as the wardroid took a step back.

She tried to raise her head and felt like she was going to fall off the floor and into the sky above. Nothing was staying still.

“NEED A MEDPAC!” Jorgan roared.

Something thudded heavily into the platform.

Fiika turned her head and screamed at the pain.

_ Come on, get up! _

She forced herself to her knees and bit down on her split lip, trying to distract from the deep pain in her left side with the sharper pain from her mouth.

Shivers raced down her arms.

“Not now!” she shouted at herself.

Fiika stood and started to walk off the pain, towards Havoc. The squad had fully moved onto the bridge, taking cover behind the storage crates. Either she was hit in the head and seeing double, or there were more Skytroopers melting out of the fog. Kanner turned and looked at her, then did a double take, eyes wide.

Jorgan pulled her down behind a storage crate, yelling something.

She could barely hear him. Her ears were ringing.

Something cold and wet was slapped onto her forehead. There was a pinching sensation in her arm.

“ALLOS!”

Fiika blinked and the two Majors turned back into one. “Yes?”

“You back with us?”

“Yes.” Jorgan moved out of focus, and she frowned. “I think.”

He shook his head, holding the comm.

Theron sounded out of breath. “We’re seeing a lot of action in the south quarter. It’s like it’s raining Skytroopers.”

“We’re boxed in!” Lana yelled in a burst of static. “Can anyone support us?”

Fiika felt dread curl up tightly in her chest.

“Yeah, I got something for ya!” Kaliyo responded. Blasterfire echoed from the speaker. “Oh, you want some too, huh?” There was a sound of something exploding. “Yeah!”

Cold was pooling in her bones, making her pull her poncho about her. 

A dropship soared overhead and out poured Skytroopers.

Jorgan swallowed.

“Any last words?” Fiika asked softly. She was freezing, everything hurt. Jorgan had been shot at some point in the shoulder. Havoc wasn’t in better shape around them, and the rest of the Alliance was dealing with their own battle.

They were pinned down on the bridge.

She shook with shivers.

“Can that garbage!” He glared at the Skytroopers. “Had to be droids,” he muttered to himself.

Fiika forced herself to her feet and stared down the Knight on the dropship.

_ Has Arcann ordered you to kill me? Or just capture me so he can hang me on his wall again? _

The dropship exploded. It veered downwards at an angle and flattened the Skytroopers that had just exited it. The wreckage burned brightly, lighting up the shooters.

“About damn… time?” Jorgan seemed just as puzzled as Fiika to not recognize the silhouettes.

The figures moved closer. Features slowly became clarified as the smoke cleared.

The exiles. Led by Vaynard.

He was grinning, rocket-launcher on one shoulder. “I thought we might not make it. I’m glad to be wrong.”

“That makes all of us.” Fiika nodded her thanks.

Vaynard stared at her in slight horror before looking away. “When we heard your call, we knew what had to be done. We’ve spent our entire lives being protected, by our droids, by you. We want to stand for ourselves.” He glanced again at Fiika in concern.

_ Is there something on my face? _

Jorgan nodded, respect in his eyes. “Won’t get any argument from me. Let’s get back to camp. Havoc, move out! Cover the rest of the Alliance!”

* * *

 

As it turned out, there was, in fact, something on Fiika’s face.

Blood. A rather large amount of it. She’d bit deeper into her lip than she’d thought, and blood had dribbled all over her chin and down her neck.

Koth dabbed kolto onto her lip gently. “You really did a number on yourself.”

“What number?”

He was silent for a minute. “One.”

Fiika flinched slightly as he got to a particularly tender part of her lip. “Why one?”

“If you stopped talking, this would be easier,” he teased. “And it’s one because you’re the only  _ one _ I’d do this for.” Koth looked thoroughly pleased with his pun, grinning proudly at her look of annoyance. “Was that  _ too _ cheesy?”

She sighed. “Keep up the number puns and this is  _ for _ you.” Fiika made a rude hand gesture at him.

Koth leaned back and laughed. When he laughed, he put his full body into it; his laugh deep and rich and infectious. Fiika could feel herself smiling faintly despite the pain on her mouth. 

He kept grinning as he put the last of the kolto on her. “How’d you get these?” he asked, fingers tracing over her scars.

“A pirate tried to silence me by sewing my mouth shut. I ripped out the wire he used. It was that, or be sold into slavery. Lord Beniko saved me. It’s how we met.” Fiika shrugged. “Hurt like hell but better than the alternative.”

“You ripped out wire used to sew your mouth shut.” Koth repeated.

“Yes.”

“Stars, you’re amazing.” He kissed her lightly on the cheek.

Fiika ducked her head, still smiling. She was still freezing cold, and the tips of her fingers were numb. But if he knew- 

_ Sod it. I’ll tell him. _

“Koth.”

Her tone must’ve set him off. “Yeah?”

Fiika shoved her hands into her armpits to keep them warm. “I… I still get cold attacks. After Asylum… when Arcann…”

“Skewered you,” he filled in helpfully.

She let out a bark of laughter. “Yes. Skewered me. I… It messed with my healing from the carbonite poisoning. I’ve been trying to hide it, but…” Fiika held out her hands. “I can’t feel my fingers right now. It hasn’t been that bad, but lately, with everything going on, and I don’t want to be put on desk duty because who’s going to watch everyone’s back and that’s my job and I can’t even control my own body’s temperature and I’ve got Valkorian-in-my-head-and-I-hate-him-and-”

Koth took her hands and held them between his. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.” He shifted to sit next to her, bring her in close to lean against him. “One problem at a time. You can’t fix a whole ship at once, you gotta pick one system and fix it.”

Fiika held him close. He was warm in the cold swamp. She took a deep breath, trying to relax.

“When we get back, we’re going to figure something out, okay? You won’t be doin’ desk duty. You’re too good at throwing knives and doing sneaky stuff.” Koth ran a hand up and down her back. “Now… let’s get some rest. I think we could all use it.”

Fiika shook her head. “No, Major Jorgan wanted to talk to us when we were all patched up.”

Koth sighed. “Then we go talk to him. Then sleep.”

“What if we’re heading back to Odessen after we talk? Too tired to pilot the ship?”

“Never,” he said with a smile.

* * *

 

Theron had his back turned to the pot of caf sitting on the table behind him, he was breathing through his mouth, and yet he could still smell it.

_ I don’t need it. _

He smiled tightly at Lana when she glanced at him.

She must’ve sensed what was tempting him, because she set her caf mug down where her body blocked it. 

Theron shook his head before his mind started to wander. Fiika and Koth joined them. She was wearing Koth’s jacket, kolto smeared gracelessly on her mouth. Well, they were all here. He cleared his throat. “We took a beating, but the mission was a success. And we discovered an unexpected ally.” He nodded at Vaynard. “I’d call that progress.”

“Attacking Zakuul was never going to be easy.” Pattik spoke softly. He stood stiffly at the edge of the gathering. Theron knew his back was painful enough that the Jedi didn’t want to move. Something had gone wrong in the swamp, resulting in Pattik getting shot in the leg. There was a small lump of bandages under his robes.

Jorgan swirled the caf around in his mug. “Nobody else has made it this far. I’ll give us that.” He looked up, smiling faintly. “It’s a bigger victory for Pashna and his people than us.” He glanced at Vaynard. “Finding the will to fight back. Proving you could win. Arcann’s seeding his own defeat in these swamps.”

“How do you mean?” Pattik asked.

“Every defiant soul Arcann drives out here we can turn into a weapon to use against him.” Jorgan drained his caf. “I want to embed Havoc with the rebels. Train them to be a proper fighting force. Build an army right under his nose.” He looked at Vaynard to gauge his opinion.

The exile was nodding thoughtfully.

Theron considered it. The Zakuulan exiles already knew the swamp; they knew Arcann was no benevolent Emperor. And now, after they rescued Havoc and Fiika, he knew they wanted to fight back. And if there were more exile camps in the swamps… “Whip them into shape. I’ll work on getting them equipment.”

Jorgan’s eyes were burning bright with excitement. “If we teach them right, you won’t have to.”

_ Going to steal from Skytroopers like Fiika? Best of luck. _

Everyone fell silent, drinking their caf, or in Theron’s case, pretending he didn’t want caf. Creatures in the swamp cried out in the distance. Rain pattered against the tent. The portable lantern flickered in the corner.

Lana was the first to speak. “If that’s it, we should head back to Odessen.”

* * *

 

Fiika had almost missed the heat wave.

Almost.

She groaned and stretched, undershirt sticking her with sweat. Her scar from Asylum twinged faintly.

“Do we have to get up?” Koth yawned.

“I do. You don’t.” Fiika slid out of bed and headed for his refresher, looking over her shoulder to grin at Koth. he was still tangled in the sheets, hair squashed on one side from sleeping on it. He still looked exhausted, but then, he didn’t get a change to sleep on the way back from Zakuul. “Go back to bed. You look like you could use it.”

He gave her a thumbs-up and rolled back over. “Don’t touch my ship,” he mumbled.

“Never,” Fiika said sweetly. She washed her face in the sink and pulled on her uniform before leaving quietly.

Koth was already snoring softly as she shut the door.

* * *

 

Fiika winced as Master Pattik’s staff whacked her sore shoulder. “Oy!”

“What did I say about the commentary?” Senya asked, a warning in her tone.

Fiika stayed silent, smiling spitefully at the Knight. She made a motion of zipping her mouth shut.

Master Pattik stepped back into a defensive pose. “Fiika.”

She pointed at her mouth and shrugged.

“Fine.” The Jedi raised his staff. “Ready.”

Senya studied Fiika with a sour look before nodding. “Attack.”

Fiika whirled at Pattik, knowing full well that she was absolutely terrible with staff fighting, but she was only one available. Lord Beniko and Theron were both up to their respective necks in work, and Senya wanted to watch from a distance. So Fiika had been pulled rather abruptly from a discussion on starfighters with Admiral Aygo. 

“Back,” ordered Senya.

Fiika took a step back, ducked under Master Pattik’s swing, and- “EMPEROR’S UNDERWEAR!”

Master Pattik dropped his staff. “What?”

She grinned and whipped her staff around, knocking his feet out from under him. “Nothing. Just thought I’d yell. For fun.”

The Jedi didn’t look too pleased with being tricked, but there was a glint of approval in his eyes. He took her offered hand and pulled himself to his feet. “You had me worried for a moment.”

Senya cleared her throat. “That wasn’t fair. There was no honor in it.”

Fiika turned to face her. “I thought by now you’d have realized that I don’t fight with honor. I’m a bloody spy and I work from the shadows. Fair isn’t what we’re taught at the Intelligence Academy. We’re taught to win no matter what. Honor means nothing if you’re dead.”

Senya studied her, thinking. “Okay.” She looked at Pattik. “You’ve improved. You don’t fall on your back anymore.”

He nodded politely. “All thanks to you.”

Senya shook her head. “That’s enough for now. I’ll put away the gear.”

Fiika handed her the staff she’d been using. The Knight was staring at her again. Fiika could practically see the thoughts collecting in her mind.

She just wasn’t sure if she wanted to know what they were.

* * *

 

Aric had to admit that the War room was impressive. An entire wall was filled computer terminals, consoles had quality troop assessment programs. And, which he liked the most: the environmental conditioning units. They were keeping the heat out of the war room.

What was less impressive was the collection of Alliance members in it.

“Interesting group you’ve got here. Takes all kinds, I guess.”

Agent Allos gave him a level look. “Against this enemy, anyone who’ll bloody sign up.”

“Desperation makes for strange bedfellows.” Lord Beniko motioned for them to join her at the table.

Aric didn’t trust her as far as he could throw her. He’d met his fair share of Sith, and all had tried to kill him. That she wasn’t didn’t mean she didn’t want to. He was still from the Republic. But it was nice to put a name to the face.

Agent Allos… now there was a puzzle for him. Theron trusted her. While Aric wasn’t in the habit of trusting S.I.S. agents, Theron was a slight exception. And Agent Allos had been with Jorgan throughout the entire assault on the outpost, watching their backs. She was alright in his book. Barely.

“Strange bedfellows,” Koth repeated. He glanced at the Knight of Zakuul. “Not the strangest for some of us.”

“One. More. Word.” The Knight growled. Aric had the sense that she was always uptight and ready to fight.

“Enough,” Master Pattik said gently.

Jorgan looked around the room. “Fun as this is, I need to get back to Havoc. I’ve requisitioned passable training gear to issue the rebels, at least until they can keep from shooting their own toes off.”

Koth frowned and turned to Lord Beniko. “I can’t believe we’re going to ask civilians to fight our battles.” He crossed his arms. “It doesn’t feel right.”

Lord Beniko looked one question away from losing her patience. Aric didn’t want to ask that question. Irritating Sith was in his job description, but not Sith he was now working with. He wondered if she’d throw lightning at them. And then decided she wouldn’t. Master Pattik was right there, and from all accounts, Lord Beniko respected him.

The Sith turned her glower on Koth. “They’re going to do this whether we help or not. Teaching them how to is what’s best for them, and us.”

“A more rigorous analysis would suggest the cost benefit is more strictly in their favor.”

Aric whipped his head around to look at the droid. It-

_ What the hell? _

Aric had seen weird droids. This one took the cake. The droid was in armor that would put most cantina dancers to shame. It was just the eyes that made it creepy. Sensors were layered to make them look like like they had irises.

Master Pattik spoke. “I’m willing to make some sacrifices to help these people.”

The droid considered his words. “That is your foolish prerogative. I will attempt to compensate for it.”

Aric stared hard at the droid, deciding he definitely didn’t like it. “Pushy droid you’ve got,” he said in distaste to Agent Allos.

The girl winced slightly. “I wouldn’t call her that.”

He knew exactly which word the agent was referring to, but decided to play dumb. If only to test the droid. He wanted to see what it was made of. Other than durasteel and gold inlays, of course. “What, pushy?”

The droid’s eyes glowed brighter. It took the bait. “Droid. The extent of my being is beyond your comprehension.”

_ Touchy, aren’t you. Someone needs to dial back your self-importance matrix. _

“Yeah. Clearly.” Aric turned back to the war table. “If you need me, you know where to find me.” He nodded goodbye and left the war room. His ship was fueled and in the hanger.

* * *

 

He stared out into the stars. Once he and Thexan had tried counting them.

They’d failed.

“Such a busy emperor,” Father said behind him.

Arcann didn’t bother to turn around. He knew Father was behind his endless nightmares, he knew Father would never stop seeking revenge on him for killing his body.

Arcann had just decided to stop letting Father know he was irritating him.

“I’m thinking.”

Father’s spirit walked around to look him in the face. He hadn’t taken his own form, nor Fiika’s.

He was that Jedi, the Zabrak. Only his eyes gave him away. They glowed with embers of hatred. “You’re going to fall.”

Arcann ignored him. He had his own problems to deal with, but that Father wasn’t tormenting him as usual made him pause.

_ Why are you not speaking of Thexan, or of my weakness for Fiika? _

“What are you doing here?”

Father’s smile was unkind. He stared at Arcann for moment before vanishing, leaving behind an uneasy feeling.

_ What was your plan, Father? _

* * *

 

“Hey.”

Lana looked up to see Theron in the doorway. She shoved her hand into her pocket. “Hello yourself.”

“Is now a good time to talk?” He’d left off half his clothes with the heat. No foul jacket, no boots or socks. His pants were rolled up to his knees, his sleeves to his elbows. He had clearly spiked his hair back up.

No more of the attractive loose strands falling in his face like in the swamp-

_ Focus. _

Lana nodded. “Of course.”

He awkwardly sat down on the couch in the corner of the staging room. And then changed how he sat. Three times.

“Theron.”

He sighed. “Listen, I know you’re mad at me.”

Lana raised an eyebrow. She had been mad until he’d almost been shot in the swamp. Now the anger was tinged with fear and shoved down deep in a tight little ball in her chest. “Oh?”

“And you have every right to be. I went to Zakuul without telling you, and took Fiika and Pat. I should’ve told you.” Theron looked up. “But you also should’ve stayed in contact for those four years.” He stared bleakly at her. “I couldn’t contact you. For a while I didn’t know if you were alive or dead. And…” Theron bowed his head. She could sense remorse in him, remorse and pain. “No more hiding anything. Please.”

She sighed. “You understand you’re essentially the spymaster? Your job is literally hiding things.”

He looked up at her. “Lana.”

Force damn it.

She regretted her words. Lana sat down beside him. “Alright. Here.” She slowly pulled her hand out of her pocket. Where cybernetics met skin was no longer red and itching, thank the Force, but it still was unnerving to look at.

Theron was silent for a beat. “When did this happen?”

“When we were escaping Zakuul on the Gravestone.” Lana bent her fingers, cybernetic and flesh. “A knight overpowered me. I tried to block the lightsaber…”

He turned and gave her a bemused look. “With your hand?”

“Your mother did it against Darth Malgus during the war. I had nothing else left to defend myself with. I… am not as powerful with the Force as her, though.”

Theron’s expression changed with the mention of Satele. “And.. you didn’t tell me.”

“I am now. My hand’s half gone.”

“It’s still your hand.” Theron traced his fingers along the seam between cybernetics and skin. “I gave up caf about year after I was let go from the S.I.S. I hadn’t slept for about a week and I was only drinking caf.” He looked away, frowning. “Jace Malcom came to check on me and apparently found me passed out in my apartment and my heart was beating so fast he thought it might just stop. I was in a hospital for over a week.”

Lana stayed silent. He never spoke of his father.

He ran a hand through his hair, messing up the spikes. “Since then… I can count on one hand how many times I’ve had caf.” Theron glanced at her. “One good thing did come out of it. Once a month Jace and I had lunch together. He’s… not so bad.”

She noticed that he was smiling slightly. “I’m sorry I dropped out of contact. I just…” Lana chewed on a fingernail absentmindedly. “Korriban was just…” She shut her eyes. “Every Sith felt it. Our world, our home, was invaded. And then Fiika and Pat…”

He patted her hand.

“I couldn’t contact you after I sent you Fiika’s things. I… I couldn’t call you one day and not have you answer. I’d lost enough people.”

They sat there in silence, words hanging heavy between them.

“Well, we’re both here now.”

“Yes,” Lana agreed. “No more… no more personal secrets.”

“Deal.”

She looked at him, realizing how close they were. There were new scratches on his implant, new ones from the swamp. He smelled like aftershave. His lashes were dark, darker than her own, and-

His hand was still on top of her’s.

“I have found vital information.”

She whipped her head around to see SCORPIO in the doorway. “Hm?”

SCORPIO’s eyes flashed with irritation. “I have found vital information. I have called the other members to meet in the war room.”

Theron stood. “Then let’s go.”

* * *

 

Fiika got the feeling that neither her nor Theron particularly cared for SCORPIO. At all. And SCORPIO certainly didn’t like them back.

Theron was currently fuming over something the droid had done.

Lord Beniko didn’t look to be in a much better mood.

The lift opened up, revealing Master Pattik.

“Good, you’re here.” Theron waved him over.

“Astute observation, Agent Shan. It is a wonder the S.I.S. could get by without your deductive reasoning.” SCORPIO was stating directly at him, awaiting his response after her sarcastic remarks.

Fiika wondered what a vibro-knife to the droid’s neck would do.

Theron didn’t glance the droid’s way. “You’re a droid who’s gotten too big for her own bolts. How’s that for an astute observation?”

“Five minutes!” snapped Lord Beniko. “Can we go five minutes without you two at each other’s throats?” She was glaring directly at SCORPIO.

“Setting the clock…” Fiika smiled. “Three...two...one… Theron, I’ve got your back against this bloody machine with a superiority complex.” She fixed SCORPIO with a vicious grin.

“Why do I feel like you’re encouraging more than helping?” Lord Beniko sighed.

“Because I am.”

Theron shook his head. “SCORPIO, show Commander Pattik what you found…” He made a face. “Please,” he added.

The droid seemed satisfied with his polite tone. “My analysis of enemy communications obtained by Havoc Squad revealed something… interesting.” She plugged her hand into the hologram controls. A blue image of the outpost appeared. “Hidden inside a mundane signal, I discovered encrypted transmissions, code-named the ‘GEMINI’ frequency. They are broadcast from the Throne to every vessel in the Eternal Fleet. The Spire schematics provided by Kaliyo confirm this.”

Theron summed it up into one sentence. “It’s how Arcann controls his warships.” He nodded at the hologram. “This is the break we’ve been waiting for. A direct line to the enemy fleet.”

Fiika felt hope sprouting in her chest. If they could get Arcann to surrender… he could help her get Valkorian out of her head. Permanently. 

Master Pattik leaned over the table with interest, eyes glowing blue in the light. “Start a plan of attack. It’s Arcann’s turn to be on the defensive.”


	15. A Broken Path

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fiika ends up wandering Odessen's wilderness and her and Arcann see each other's pasts. Lana blames herself. Theron falls back into some old bad habits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so.... this is the longest chapter to date. Like, really long. I thought about breaking it up into two parts, but then it would cut some development/arcs in half and then make some little things less obvious or seem unimportant. So this is one 20k+ chapter of angst and mild fluff. Mostly angst. I'd say I'm sorry but I'm really not :)

It had been a rough week.

The heat wave had finally vanished, but radar had shown summer thunderstorms on the way. Preparations for the next attack on Zakuul, once they got ahold of the so-called ‘GEMINI’ frequency, were underway.

Admiral Aygo had been commanding the Alliance fleet for practice runs every day, sending reports to Fiika. A pile of reports that were just dumped unceremoniously atop the other reports she was trying to wade through. All from the other Alliance members. Doctor Oggurob, Sana-Rae, Captain Visz, and one definitely-not-official file from Kaliyo that, for some unholy reason, stank of bantha steak.

There was also entirely separate stacks of files from Major Jorgan, all from Havoc, which included some highly detailed files written by Dengar. If Fiika had to guess, Dengar was an aspiring writer who seemed to never have heard of the word ‘said’. Then there were more files from Theron. And Lord Beniko. And Senya.

Fiika leaned back until she was practically horizontal and sighed. Her corner of the war room was all paperwork, and Koth wasn’t helping matters by making a paper model of a starfighter out of old forms. He tossed it at her and it landed on her chest.

He grinned at her unamused look.

“Hey!” Theron motioned them over. “Good news.”

Lord Beniko looked up from her datapad. “Finally.”

Fiika couldn’t help but notice that the Sith wasn’t wearing gloves to hide her half-cybernetic hand anymore. “What is it?”

Theron pulled up a holo-message. “SCORPIO cross-ref- I think Pat should see this.”

“Yeah, do you want me to go get him-”

Lord Beniko raised a hand. “He’s coming. I sense him.”

Fiika traded a look with Theron.

As if on cue, Master Pattik entered, followed by Senya.

Theron waited until they were all gathered around the holographic table before continuing. “SCORPIO cross-referenced all the data Havoc Squad and Kaliyo stole from Zakuul. When she compared the enemy’s comm logs, she found something unexpected.” He pulled up a model of the Spire. “There’s a hyper-relay station hidden ten thousand meters beneath the Spire. It’s the only source of GEMINI-frequency transmissions to and from the Eternal Throne.”

“I thought the Throne controlled the Eternal Fleet.” Fiika frowned at the holographic Spire, looking directly at the little sphere at the top. It was where the Throne sat, and sat in it would be Arcann.

“Ah, so the S.I.S. is better.” Theron grinned at her. “Broadcasting a signal to thousands of ships across the galaxy takes tremendous energy. I guess I’m the better spy.”

Fiika opened her mouth, retort ready.

Lord Beniko beat her to it. “We are _not_ starting the who’s-a-better-spy game.”

Master Pattik broke the silence that followed. “That’s how Arcann commands the Fleet.” He spun the hologram around and enlarged the top of the Spire. “And we know where it is?” he glanced at Theron.

“Yep. The relay station’s powered by two hundred reactors tapping directly into Zakuul’s planetary core. “

“Then we need to be careful. We can’t damage the core and destroy the planet,” Fiika added.

Lord Beniko nodded in agreement. “That relay station is our key to the GEMINI frequency. If we can decrypt it, we’ll eavesdrop on Arcann and learn his plans.”

“Every plan,” Master Pattik said. He looked thoughtful. “How do we reach that station?”

Senya snorted in disbelief. “You’ll never get to that relay station. It’s ten kilometers underground and defended by more safeguards than we can count.”

Theron’s smile was that of someone who thoroughly enjoyed proving others wrong. “It’s a good thing our data reveals _every_ safety measure in the way. And how to defeat them.” He wriggled his eyebrows in victory, earning of look of distaste from the Knight.

Lord Beniko was ignoring his antics. “A strike team can disable the defenses right under Arcann’s nose…” She frowned and studied her datapad. “But only if we send it now. Our intel’s turning stale as we speak.”

_Finally I can get away from the paperwork._

Fiika quietly started stretching out her wrists.

“Kaliyo and Major Jorgan are already on Zakuul.” Theron put through a holo-call to both. “They’re in position to clear Commander Pattik a path directly to the relay station.”

_With me as back-up, I hope._

Senya slammed her hands down on the edge of the table and leaned forward, eyes bright. “We are not sending that terrorist. She’s done enough to my world.”

At that moment, Major Jorgan and Kaliyo both answered their respective calls. Tiny blue versions of them appeared alongside the Spire.

“Senya’s right.”

Fiika looked sharply over at Koth, not entirely sure that she heard him correctly.

He seemed as surprised as everyone else at what he’d just said. “Can’t believe I had to say that. We can’t send that terrorist.”

Jorgan took that moment to add his opinion to the matter. “Havoc Squad was made for this op. We have enough detonite to turn that relay into a crater. Cut the head off the serpent, throw the Fleet into chaos.”

Kaliyo seemed to take offense at that, and turned to Theron. “You trusting the fate of the galaxy to a gang of grenade-happy bucketheads?” She crossed her arms. “We’re only getting one shot at this. Luckily, one shot is all I need.”

“Is that what you tell all your victims?” Koth fired back.

Kaliyo didn’t even blink. She just kept staring down Theron as if he were in charge of the Alliance and would ultimately be deciding. Which he wasn’t. Fiika had a feeling that Master Pattik would be making the final decision since everyone around the table would all be divided between the two options. And he had ‘Commander’ in front of his name.

The anarchist continued. “Destroying that relay station is a bonehead play. Send me, and you’ll control the GEMINI frequency.”

The idea wasn’t half bad. Fiika had to give it that. Turn Arcann’s Fleet against him-

Lord Beniko seemed to share the same sentiments. “The idea has potential. She’s an experienced infiltrator who’s survived on Zakuul for years-”

“No!” snapped Senya. “She bombed my people. Never again.”

Master Pattik held up his hands to silence them all. The hologram light made the lines on his face stand out starkly. “This Alliance will never win if we can’t function as a team. I need all of you to pull together and do what’s necessary.” He gave Kaliyo a stern look that would’ve worked on anyone with a conscience. “Even if you’re not happy with your assignment.”

_She’s not going, is she._

Theron cleared his throat awkwardly. “It’s not that simple. We need to draw Arcann’s attention away from our true goal. That means creating a diversion.”

“They’re both accomplished at drawing attention. The real question is, Pat, who do you want with you at the relay station?” Lord Beniko set her datapad aside, fixing the Jedi with a serious look.

Master Pattik sighed. “If we can’t take control of the GEMINI frequency, we’ll have to destroy it. Havoc Squad has the firepower for that job.”

Fiika couldn’t miss the victorious grin that suddenly appeared on Major Jorgan’s face. She couldn’t blame him. Between him and Kaliyo, she’d pick him any day. Even if he was a Pub.

Kaliyo looked like she’d eaten something sour and it was stuck in her teeth. “Without me there to slice that relay station, Major Malfunction’s suicide run will be a self-fulfilling prophecy. Give me a chance.”

“We need a perfect diversion.” Fiika smiled unkindly at Kaliyo, deciding that someone had to take one for the proverbial team, and Arcann would certainly be interested in anything having to do with her. “And we’re the best around. We just need to keep it clean and get Arcann’s full attention. No civilians, got it?”

“What about pets?” Kaliyo seemed to realize that no one found that funny. “Kidding.”

Jorgan nodded and started to sign off. “See you at the rendezvous, Commander.”

Kaliyo’s goodbye was flipping everyone the bird.

The holocalls ended.

Senya was still staring where Kaliyo’s hologram had been moments ago. “If her idea of a distraction results in harm to my people, I’ll kill her myself.”

“And I’ll help,” Koth added.

Fiika held up her hands to placate them. “I’ll keep her in check.”

“You can’t please everyone.” Lord Beniko shook her head. “We need to start gearing up. Fiika, a moment?”

Fiika followed her over to the counter that housed the caf machines. “M’lord?”

“It…” Lord Beniko looked distinctly uncomfortable. “It may be prudent to consult Valkorian. He built the Spire. He may tell you how to invade it.”

It was as if ice had been poured into her veins at the suggestion. “What?” Fiika bit off the word louder than she intended.

Koth, Theron, Senya, Pattik; they all looked over in alarm.

Fiika didn’t care. She stared hard at Lord Beniko. “You want me to talk to the _monster_ that destroyed Ziost? And ask him for _help_?”

Lord Beniko didn’t falter. “He could have insight in how to-”

“Theron said we have every way around all the blasted traps!”

“What if he’s wrong? Sorry Theron, but it’s true? What if Valkorian knows of secrets around-

“No.” Fiika crossed her arms. “I will not.”

Two spots of red were appearing on Lord Beniko’s cheeks. She was getting angry. “That’s an order. I will not lose anyone because we didn’t use a resource at our disposal. Go talk to him.” She crossed her arms, eyes flashing.

There was a very strong cocktail of emotions swirling around in Fiika’s mind at that moment. Outrage that one of her closest friends would tell her to actively talk to the demon who’s destroyed her entire family. Fury just at Valkorian being mentioned. Betrayal that Lord Beniko would even consider this course of action. And the usual greif that followed any mention of her homeworld.

Fury won out.

Cold, hard fury that any Sith would’ve been proud to wield.

Fiika straighten her back and clicked her heels together, the perfect image of an obedient Imperial soldier. “Yes, my lord.” She spun on her heel and marched out of the war room, refusing to look anyone in the face, lest they see the tears forming.

She went right to her quarters, ignoring Koth running after her. “I don’t feel like bloody talking!” she yelled over her shoulder at him. If he followed, if he asked questions… Fiika didn’t think he’d take her side. Valkorian was still something they didn’t talk about. He thought Valkorian was still the benevolent Emperor who kept Zakuul safe.

She loathed the emperor with every fiber of her being.

Fiika yanked off her uniform, throwing it across her room in anger.

_I’m not talking to him in here._

A clearing in the forest would be perfect. She could yell at him as loudly as she pleased and no one would come running and think some screws were loose if they saw her screaming at an empty room.

She pulled on a dark thermal shirt and her stolen jacket from Asylum. Fiika slung her perpetually-prepared survival pack across her back, added her assault rifle alongside it, and snuck out of the back of the base, slipping through the cantina, hugging the shadows and taking the stairs instead of the lifts.

 

* * *

 

“What did you tell her?” Theron asked again.

Lana didn’t want to talk about it. “Not now.”

“No, we said no secrets. We talk. So… now.” He planted himself in the chair in the corner of her private room. “What pissed her off like that?”

She rubbed her temples. A headache was forming. If she had known how Fiika would’ve reacted…

No, Lana still would’ve asked her.

It was just Fiika’s expression when Lana had asked her. It was the first time Fiika had stared at her with defiance in her eyes, and it’d unnerved her. Fiika had never been defiant. No, Fiika was her agent, had her back, always dedicated to her duty…

“Lana,” Theron said softly. “What did you say?”

She turned to gauge his reaction. “I told her to speak with Valkorian. He might-”

“You _what_?” His voice was an octave higher than usual. “Lana!”

“He could have information to help us!”

Theron ran a hand through his hair. “You… Lana,” he repeated quieter. “She… she… I can’t put into words how much Fiika despises Valkorian.” He looked up at her. “She hates him like… how… the rest of the galaxy hates Arcann. She hates Valkorian even more.”

“I know it isn’t an ideal situation, but what if we lose someone because we didn’t get advice from him? What if this fails without his advice?”

He was staring at her with disappointment. “What if you lost her because you told her to talk to the man who murdered everything she loved? He’s not your Sith Emperor anymore, Lana.”

“I know that!”

“It’s like asking your Empress Acina to go begging to the Republic and Jedi for credits. Without a lightsaber.” With that, Theron left, still shaking his head.

_Oh, what did I just do?_

 

* * *

 

Fiika realized she’d never actually gone for a proper walk through Odessen’s forests, and decided to change that. It was beautiful at sunset, gold sunlight flickering between the trees, little dustmotes lit up, flowers dangling from the lowest branches.

It would be perfect for a picnic with Koth.

When the current mission was over.

She stepped around a puddle, frowning at the thunder overhead.

_Look’s like the bloody storm’s coming early. Best get this over with._

Fiika sat down on a tree stump and held out her arms in a particularly sarcastic welcoming gesture. “Valkorian. We need to talk.”

_Please don’t respond._

He didn’t.

_Thanks the stars._

Fiika turned to get up and swore.

Valkorian’s ghost was standing next to her. “Talking is your greatest strength.”

“I’m not a mirror.”

He glared at her childish comeback before turning to face her.

The look in his eyes had sirens going off her in head. Fiika slowly got up from her seat, and felt for her daggers, before remembering that they’d be useless against a Force ghost. If he started slinging lightning, she’d have to dive behind a tree. She took a step back towards the base.

Valkorian’s expression shifted to something profoundly unpleasant. “It is time I taught you to listen.” He advanced, and Fiika found that her feet were no longer listening to her brain. “Time and time again, reject my aid. Why would I trust you with secrets you have not earned?”

Her mouth wasn’t suffering from whatever was afflicting her feet. “I refuse your power because that power slaughtered my family, you bastard!”

“I am not your servant-”

“I’m not yours, either.”

Valkorian shocked her lightly with lightning. “I am not your servant. And you have trifled with my patience  for the last time.”

This time when he shocked her with lightning, everything turned black.

 

* * *

 

_Fiika screamed. And screamed. And screamed even louder. “MUMMY!”_

_Her mother appeared in the doorway, bun half-falling out and hanging over one ear from her mad rush up the stairs. “What is it, Darling?”_

_In response, Fiika pointed stoutly at the closet door. “I saw eyes,” she whispered._

_“Did you, now?” Her mother nudged open the closet door, casting light onto the family pet Flutterplume that was perched on the shoe rack. He had a discarded sock in his beak. “Get out of here, Hari.” She shooed the bird out of her daughter’s room. “It was just the birdie.”_

_Fiika was still standing in the corner of her room. “It wasn’t Hari.”_

_“Fiika-”_

_“LOOK, MUMMY THERE THEY ARE!”_

Fiika watched the memory with her heart in her throat. “Mum,” she whispered. Had her mother always been so short? Fiika had always thought of her as taller, taller than her, but now that she was standing in her own memory… her mother was the same height as her.

_“LUUKO! THERE’S RATS AGAIN!”_

Fiika turned to watch her step-father thunder up the stairs.

_“Again?” her younger self asked. “What’d you mean again?”_

_Luuko brandished a broomstick and jabbed it into the closet. “I’ll talk to Garo about getting more traps. Maybe the boys can install them after class this week.”_

_Something hissed in the closet._

Fiika yelped as the rat leapt at her. Everything went dark.

 

* * *

 

Arcann had no idea where he was. It was a tiny little bedroom, colorful drawings taped up onto the walls, done in a child’s hand. Stickers decorated the window, of… he leaned in close. Glittery cartoon animals. Past the window were grand statues and sharp towers. It was all Imperial architecture. In the street below, grime was collected in the gutters, graffiti on walls that separated the town sector from others.

A gasp behind him made him whirl.

And then the little girl started screaming.

She had blonde hair, half of it pulled into a little ponytail off to the side, all of it chin-length. It reminded him of Vaylin when they were growing up, but Vaylin didn’t have a round face, nor could she scream so loud.

“MUMMY!”

The girl’s mother appeared suddenly in the doorway. “What is it, Darling?” She was disheveled and in badly need of a proper pair of socks. Arcann could see her big toe through a hole. And… this woman looked familiar. Thin eyebrows, lopsided blonde hair identical to her daughter’s… Her dark eyes were wide with concern.

The little girl pointed at her closet door, whispering. “I saw eyes.”

Arcann turned his attention to the closet. This was a dream, something Father wanted him to see.

“Did you, now?” The mother opened the closet door, revealing a very ugly, very feathered… thing. “Get out of here, Hari.”

The creature hopped out of the room, rustling its feathers in irritation and carrying a purple sock with it.

“It was just the birdie,” the mother said kindly.

The girl shook her head, hair hitting her face. “It wasn’t Hari,” she insisted.

Her mother sighed. “Fiika-”

Arcann looked sharply over at the girl. It was indeed Fiika, albeit around six years old and missing teeth.

She stared right through him. “LOOK, MUMMY THERE THEY ARE!”

Her mother followed her gaze and clutched Fiika to her. She yelled something else, but Arcann was watching her pick up Fiika and hold her close. Protecting her. Her mother loved her, and didn’t want her to be harmed by whatever was in that closet.

A man entered. Her father? Arcann studied him. He had a broom, and was poking it into the closet despite the sounds that were coming out of it. Dark hair, strong jaw. A simple ring glinted on his finger. He was protecting his daughter and wife from whatever foul creature was in the closet.

The thing in the closet leapt directly at Arcann

He felt it hit him in the face, and he fell backwards.

 

* * *

 

_“Ow!” Arcann shoved his burned fingers into his mouth. The bracers were hotter than they looked. He looked under the workbench and grinned, finding a towel to carry them with. With his hands now safely covered, he picked up the bracers and ran off down the hall towards Father’s study._

_Thexan was still fixing his, but Thexan had accidentally melted one down._

_For the first time, Arcann was done with something first. And he hadn’t messed it up._

_He passed Mother and Vaylin playing in Vaylin’s room. He could show Mother later, and Vaylin… she was too little to know what the bracers were for._

_Arcann stopped at Father’s study door and made sure his tunic was straightened before he knocked._

_“Enter,” Father said._

_He quickly shut the door behind him and tried to keep his steps controlled as he approached the massive desk._

_Father sat behind it, staring down at him. “What is it, Arcann?”_

_“I made these!” He set the towel down on the desk and opened it up to show off the shiny bronzium-plated bracers. They glittered in the light from Father’s holograms and the golden desk lamp._

_But Father wasn’t looking at the bracers. “What happened to your fingers?”_

_Arcann tried to hide his hand._

_Father used the Force to hold his arm still as he inspected the angry red burns on Arcann’s fingertips. “Be more careful and next time you won’t hurt yourself.” He turned away to resume working._

_“But what about the bracers?”_

_Father didn’t respond._

_Arcann force-pushed them closer, just over the datapad so if Father looked down, he’d see them, and-_

Arcann looked away. He knew what was going to happen.

_“Leave me.” Father force-flicked the bracers towards the door, the towel following them like a cape billowing in the wind._

_Arcann looked up from the door and caught one. The other nicked the side of his head and-_

He could still remember the pain, how sharp it was. And how Thexan hadn’t said anything, or Mother, but he knew they’d sensed it. Vaylin had. She’d snuck into his room that night and crawled into bed next to him, shoving her toy bear at him before falling asleep with her thumb in her mouth.

_He started crying. Not wailing, no, but his eyes were brimming with tears and he sniffled. It was more out of shock at first, then-_

_The tears started to fall as the pain hit him._

_Father looked up and left his desk to kneel in front of him. “It was an accident, Arcann.” Purple healing Force lit up his fingers as he traced the slice on his scalp. “Don’t cry.” Father moved onto his fingers._

_He nodded and picked up his bracers. They weren’t good enough for Father to like them._

Arcann now knew the bracers were something to be proud of. Eight years old and forging his own armor. Instead he’d hidden them away as if he could hide his father’s disappointment in him.

He followed his younger self out of the study and into blackness.

 

* * *

 

Fiika stared at the kid sucking on his fingers.

He looked mischievous, with upturned eyebrows and a smile that said he enjoyed running from playful trouble. A near-identical version of him was frowning in concentration as he poured molten metal with the Force.

A Knight of Zakuul was watching over the pair of them.

The boy who was sucking on his fingers was Arcann. He gathered up something in a towel and ran out the door.

Fiika went after him.

_This is the Spire._

Thick carpet covered the floor. Delicate lamps hung from the ceiling, gold inlays on the white walls.

It was a palace.

She turned as she walked, taking in the view of Zakuul at sunset. The spires cut through the clouds, sending beams of sunlight spilling throughout the city below. Fleet ships hung in the atmosphere, gleaming.

Stunning would be an understatement.

Fiika did a double take as they passed a room. A younger Senya sat on the floor with a tiny toddler who could only be Vaylin.

Knocking pulled her back to where she was. Something told her she had to follow Arcann. She turned back to see him enter into a room.

Fiika slipped inside before he could shut the door on her, not that he could see her.

And she stared.

A young Valkorian, hair black and just beginning to gray at the temples, sat at an impressively large desk. “What is it, Arcann?” he asked absently.

Arcann carefully placed the towel and its contents on Valkorian’s desk. “I made these!” he threw out his chest proudly, beaming up at his father. Fiika couldn’t help but crack a smile at how eager he was to show off… She moved closer.

_Bracers?_

They didn’t look half-bad, either, for a child to have made them.

Valkorian didn’t even look at them. He used the Force to grab Arcann’s hand and inspect his burned fingers. “Next time be more careful and you won’t hurt yourself.”

“But what about the bracers?”

“Leave me.” Valkorian turned back to his holographic displays.

Fiika felt disgust rising up in her.

Arcann took one last look back at his Father and Force-pushed the bracers atop his datapad.

Then Valkorian flicked them via the Force to his son.

Arcann caught one. The other hit him in the head. She winced. It wasn’t a blow that’d slow the boy down, no, it probably looked worse than it was. But his lip wavered, his eyes filling with tears. He sniffled.

Valkorian heard the sniffle and looked up. “It was an accident, Arcann,” he said, somewhat gently. He knelt next to his son, Force-healing the cut on his head and burned fingers. “Don’t cry.”

Fiika looked on. “At least say sorry,” she snapped to the memory that couldn’t hear her.

Arcann gathered up his bracers and the towel before leaving.

Fiika stayed, staring down Valkorian.

“Better wake up soon,” he said, and looked at her. His image flickered between the younger version and his current ghost-self. He reached out and touched her forehead.

 

* * *

 

Arcann jerked awake on his couch.

Izak take him, he had to stop falling asleep on it, or he’d keep getting cramps in his shoulder attached to his cybernetic arm.

And the dreams...

He shook his head. Father had never taken interest in what he and Thexan made in the forge, so long as they could make things. His head ached where he’d been hit. Arcann stood and stretched, cracking the stiff joints in his back before heading for his bed.

The other dream-

That wasn’t his.

It was Fiika’s.

He flopped down atop his sheets, too tired to bother crawling under them. If the nightmares kept up…

Arcann didn’t want to consider that he’d have to tell someone to prescribe him something.

He stared at the canopy above him.

_What game are you playing, Father?_

 

* * *

 

Something sharp was digging into her hip.

Something grainy was in her mouth. Probably dirt, from the taste. She stayed still, listening. Insects chirped and buzzed all around her. A creature let out a whine in the distance. Wherever she was, it stank of wet earth and… rain. Something wet landed on her exposed hand.

Water.

Fiika spat out the dirt in her mouth and raised her head.

A fern hit her in the face, dripping water all over her hair.

_This isn’t where I spoke to Valkorian._

She pushed the fern aside and sat up, fumbling for her comm. “Theron?” Fiika didn’t particularly want to call Lord Beniko at the moment. No, no, she might say something regrettable. Like everything she was thinking.

Only static came through the comm.

“Theron, come in. Something happened. I need your help.”

_‘Your friends cannot hear you.’_

“Shut up, you wanker, and tell me what you did.” She looked around the forest, frowning at the moonlight and rain that was sprinkling down. “How long was I out?”

_‘Do I shut up, or tell you?’_

Fiika shoved her comm back onto her belt and stood. Her survival pack was sitting against a tree, her rifle next to it. “I don’t have time for your bloody games, Valkorian. I have a mission on Zakuul.”

_‘You may still go… if you survive. You have forgotten what it means to face death alone.’_ She could feel his smile in his tone. _‘I will remind you.’_

“Lovely,” she snapped.

_‘A path has been laid before you, but you refuse to tread upon it. That will change.’_

Fiika shouldered her rifle and pack, and then snorted. “How very literal of you.”

The pack had been hiding a little stack of stones that marked the beginning of a well-worn path through the forest.

She stared at it while wrestling with her thoughts. Fiika looked behind her and scowled at the wall of rock. She was in a ravine, and there was no way to climb the ravine wall without multiple liquid-cable launchers. Valkorian has her trapped.

“I’ll play along.” She started down the path, listening for anything from the base. A ship overhead, someone else in the woods. Anything.

Nothing but-

Ice slid down her back when she heard the growl.

_‘Can you sense the predators closing in? They smell your weakness. They would feast on it.’_

_Then you must be really ripe._

A creature shot out in a blur of darkness.

She placed a well-aimed kick at it and the thing went flying back into the foliage, shrieking.

_Good riddance._

_‘You have a destiny to fulfill. I am disappointed by your lack of progress.’_

_I’m disappointed you’re not dead. Pity._

Fiika picked her way over a trickling stream to get a better look at what appeared to be a cave. She pulled out a glow rod and cracked it to activate. The cave wasn’t a cave. Rubble piled unevenly around the entrance suggested a cave it. “Buggar,” she snapped.

Not that she’d know where a cave would lead her, but it meant she’d stay on Vakorian’s literal path.

_‘The galaxy is finally united under a single banner. It should have been yours’_

Fiika paused.

_Really?_

_‘Yes.’_

_I’d use that banner to wipe my arse._

She continued on the path, listening for more of the creatures lurking in the shadows. If she couldn’t find a way back to the base, she’d have to start searching for food and water. The rain picked up as lightning flashed. Thunder boomed overhead.

Fiika pretended she didn’t feel the cold starting to pool in her belly.

_‘My son struck a killing blow against you. Had I not interfered, you would be dead. Perhaps I should have let you go then…’_

_Oh, that would’ve endeared you to no one._

She rubbed her scar from Asylum.

_‘Not that.’_

Fiika went still.

_Not this?_

_‘No.”_

_Then, pray tell, what killing blow?_

_‘His freezing of you in carbonate. If I hadn’t prolonged your life to keep the poisoning at bay, he wouldn’t have had time to save you.’_

Fiika was well aware that rain was coursing down her face, but she was too dumbstruck to actually do anything remotely important about it.

_He saved me?_

Valkorian chuckled.

She decided that his chuckle was the most unnerving thing she’d every heard, and held up her glow rod to illuminate a collect of shallow ponds, lest she slip. Or maybe she did want to slip. If she knocked herself out and drowned, would it also kill Valkorian?

Glowing fungi ringed the ponds, along with a disgusting smell coming from the shadows.

She stepped closer, peering at-

_Oh bloody hell._

Fiika wretched.

Some sort of animal was completely dead and floating in the deepest pond. It explained the smell.

_You have the mission to complete. Get back to the base._

Fiika wiped the rain out of her face.

_‘My son cou-’_

_Shut up._

She turned, glow rod held aloft. Something was rustling in the bushes on her right, something-

It shot at her, unexpectedly coming from the lowest branches of a tree, and Fiika shrieked as she caught the creature.

It was warm, wet, and-

“Oye!”

It was licking her.

She brought the glow rod close and stared down at a little juvenile Sleen. The thing blinked up at her. Then it’s tongue snaked out and it licked it’s own eyeball.

“Gross.”

The Sleen righted itself on her arm and started sniffing her, nuzzling her pockets and pack.

“Sorry, mate, I don’t have anything for you.” She set the creature down and left it standing in the ponds.

_‘Despite your precious warship, a legion of allies, and my immense power at your disposal, you remain… incomplete.’_

Fiika was getting thoroughly livid at him, and tired of his comments. She stormed through the woods.

_Maybe I’m incomplete because there’s a gaping hole in my heart for Ziost._

“You think secrets grant power.”

She whirled, daggers drawn.

Valkorian’s ghost circled her. But… he didn’t look like a ghost. He looked halfway between the spirit world and her’s, no longer completely blue.

“That striking from the shadows will be enough,” he continued. “You’re wrong. Until you embrace your full potential, you will only be a pawn of fate. Never it’s master.”

“I’ll follow my own path, Valkorian, not yours, thank you very much.” Fiika matched his movements, never turning her back on him.

He smiled, amused. “You truly believe that. How…” The smile slipped off his face to be replaced with sheer disgust. “Pathetic. The future is not a river to carry us. It is the ocean in which we drown, if we are not prepared.” Valkorian held out his hand, casually Force-choking her. “You have two destinies, Fiika Allos. In one, your Alliance defeats Arcann, claims the Eternal Throne, and remakes the galaxy. In the other…”

Fiika threw a dagger at him.

It passed right through his belly.

He pulled her closer with the Force. “You die, alone, unmourned and forgotten. Like Ziost.”

“NO!” She screeched through the choking. Fiika tried to kick his arm, but much like the dagger, it went right through him. Her vision was starting to go black at the edges.

“I brought you here to see that defeat.” Valkorian dropped her and she gasped for air, scrambling away.

“You… you…” Fiika couldn’t find the words. They had gone with her breath, leaving behind her fury. She threw her other knife.

He flicked it away with the Force, watching her like a predator amused with his prey’s attempt to fight back.

_You’re playing with me._

She backed up against a rock wall. Ice was collecting inside her skin, making her flinch every time rain dripped down her back.  Fiika fumbled with her boot, trying to get her emergency dagger out. Her fingers were too cold. The laces were too wet. Water dripped down her nose. Or was it tears? She wasn't particularly sure and wasn’t interested in finding out.

“Look at me,” he commanded.

Fiika didn’t move.

Lightning hit her. Purple Force lightning that made her feel like she was up to her neck in snow.

She looked up at him, putting every ouch of vile hatred into her glare.

“Pitiful. Why did I ever believe you could change anything?” He reached out and pushed aside a chunk of hair sticking to her face. Valkorian didn’t appear soaked from the rain, but then it was going right through him.

Fiika flicked her head, trying to get her hair back to where it had been. “You don’t know me at all.”

“You’re just as weak as my son.”

“Arcann or the dead one?” she spat scathingly. She’d been hoping for some sort of emotional reaction.

Valkorian didn’t flinch. “Arcann. He’s weak. Too weak for Zakuul. See for yourself, and know you can defeat him with my considerable help.”

She screamed as his eyes turned white and Valkorian planted his palm on her forehead.

 

* * *

 

_“Father,” Arcann said. He sounded sullen._

_Valkorian sat on the Throne and waved him away. “Not yet. Not until they come searching for us.” He glanced down dismissively at his son. “You may go.”_

_Arcann whirled and stormed down the aisle, hands clasped behind his back._

Fiika paused, unsure if she was meant to follow Arcann or stay with Valkorian. She glanced back at the Emperor and he made a little shooing motion, as if to send her away with his son. She ran after Arcann and made it into the lift.

_He stood stiffly in the lift, radiating off the air of ‘do not disturb’. His arm was an older model, with more exposed wiring and a gear was missing a tooth; it kept clicking every couple seconds._

_The lift opened and he stalked down a hallway, the same white hallway from the earlier vision._

Fiika nearly had to jog to keep up with him.

_Vaylin was waiting for him on a balcony at the end of the hallway. She was plucking petals off flowers and throwing them over the edge. “I said he was going to say no.”_

_Arcann’s breath hissed out his mask. “I had hoped you’d be wrong.”_

_“Father’s just doing what’s best for you. What if you invaded that other Empire again and lost your other arm?” She uprooted a weed. “Or… killed me like Thexan?” Her smile wasn’t kind, but she wasn’t looking at him. Vaylin was still playing in the planter._

Fiika saw the flash of pain on Arcann’s face.

“Regret will get him nowhere. Use it against him,” Valkorian said in her ear.

The scene shifted.

Fiika felt bile migrate up her throat as she stared at Arcann. His face-

_He was all slashes and blood. Even through the shimmering layer of kolto, it was obvious that the wounds were deep. He was shirtless, a blanket pulled around his right shoulder and torso, leaving his left…_

“Look,” Valkorian commanded.

_Arcann’s left shoulder was completely… ruined. If the existing joint had survived whatever had happened to him, it wasn’t there anymore. Where cybernetics met skin was bright, angry red flesh, swollen and scabbed._

_A cybernetic arm sat on the cot next to him._

_And he was crying. Arcann was trying to hide it, wiping his eyes with the blanket every couple minutes and sniffling, but he was crying regardless. He hung his head. Occasionally a tear would land in the sand below._

_The tent flapped opened and his twin entered, cloaked in black. He stared down at Arcann, lips pressed together in a thin line. “How are you?”_

_“Better,” Arcann rasped._

_Thexan was silent for a moment. “Maybe Father was right. You weren’t ready for this.”_

_A tear hit the sand._

“He’s weeping over his failures instead of commanding the battles. He’s insecure. Make him feel weak, and his temper will get the better of him.”

Fiika opened her mouth but no words could work their way out. She stayed silent as the scene changed.

_Arcann and Thexan stood side-by-side in an arena. Thexan’s hair was darker, but other than that, they were identical in matching gray sparring tunics. Knights littered the arena, some on their knees, others sitting, or crouching. They all looked like they’d just had their arses kicked._

_With the way the sun filtered down between the shades, Arcann stood in Thexan’s shadow._

_Valkorian stood before them. He looked directly at Thexan. “Your efficiency has come along, son. You will crush the outlanders with your power. Well done.”_

_Thexan nodded, a ghost of a smile appearing on his face._

_Valkorian turned to Arcann. “You are almost as good as your brother.” He turned and left his sons in the arena._

_Arcann waited until his father was gone before he threw his sparring staff aside. Under the frustration, there was a tinge of disappointment in his expression._

_“Don’t worry, brother.” Thexan patted his shoulder. “Just work harder. You can get there.”_

Fiika could sense Valkorian next to her. “He worries about being the best. He’s not. Let his overconfidence be at his disadvantage.”

“He’s your son.”

“He killed his brother. He’s weak. And he will be the fall of Zakuul.”

She turned to face him and was hit in the face with rain.

_“WHERE IS SHE?” Arcann cried. He was just a boy, in the midst of a growth spurt. His voice cracked in the middle of his yelling._

_Thexan was standing in the center of a garden._

_Both of them were thoroughly drenched in the rain. Lightning cracked through the clouds in the distance.._

_“She left us.”_

_“No! Mother- Mother wouldn’t-” Arcann looked heartbroken. “Why?”_

_“She hates us. We’re stronger than her.” Thexan shrugged, glaring at a soggy patch of grass as if it particularly offended him. “She said she wasn’t even going to try and rescue Vaylin.”_

_“You talked to her?”_

_Thexan glanced up guiltily. “Yes. She said she never wanted to hear from us again.”_

“You’re lying,” Fiika breathed. Senya had said she gave them a choice between her and Valkorian. Had Thexan decided for Arcann?

“He is,” Valkorian confirmed. “He told his mother not to return unless she could rescue Vaylin. I couldn’t allow Vaylin to be free, not until she could control her powers. Their mother left for good.”

_Arcann, all of… fourteen years old, looked like every ounce of fight in him had been drained out, before he looked up in fury. “NO! MOTHER WOULDN’T LEAVE!”_

_“She did.”_

_“NO!” He pushed past Thexan and sprinted to the edge of the garden, staring out into the foggy expanse below. “MOTHER!” His roar was accented with the Force, throwing his voice out far further than naturally possible. Fiika felt it move through her like a wave._

_“Mother left us.” The way Thexan said it, it sounded like ‘Mother left you.’_

“Stop this.” Fiika shook her head. “Stop-”

“Do you not see that he’s too attached to people? His mother made him weak, but even with her gone- Look at him!”

Fiika winced as he forced her head to look back at Arcann.

_The scene was frozen, rain droplets hovering like crystals in the air. Thexan was silently staring at his twin. Arcann’s mouth was twisted open in outrage._

“He wants what he can’t have. A weakness. His sentimentality makes him a fool.”

“He’s a boy! He was just abandoned by his mum!” Fiika tried to wrestle away from Valkorian. “Stop this!”

Valkorian disappeared in front of her and Fiika fell face-first into a pile of blocks.

“Ugh!” She scrambled away from them, realizing she was phasing through them like how her knives went through Valkorian.

_They were wooden, hand carved and painted with Zakuulan letters and faces that she assumed were the Gods. They were black, gold, silver, white, the lettering in a complimentary color._

_Twin boys, in the awkward phase between being a child old enough for school and too old to be considered a toddler, were stacking the blocks into fortresses. Senya, looking distinctively pregnant, sat on a low bench beside them. Woodworking tools were laid out next to her as she worked on carving another block._

_“That’s mine!” Thexan grabbed a block from Arcann’s pile. “It’s black so it’s mine!”_

_“Thexan!” Senya said in a warning tone. “We’re sharing. You and Arcann both have black blocks. Please give it back to him.”_

_Arcann looked up when Thexan presented him with the block. “No, you keeps it. I share.”_

_Thexan gave Senya a pompous ‘I-told-you-so’ look and set the precious block on top of his fortress. “Mine.”_

Valkorian appeared.

Fiika decided to not point out that he’d materialized inside Thexan’s block fortress. “What are you going to tell me now? That Arcann doesn’t share anymore? That he’s got a secret weakness and it’s his cowlick? Pray tell, you bastard, what this vision means.”

Anger flickered across his face. “He’ll offer up anything if he cares for you.” He said it slowly, the words heavy with meaning.

“So… He’ll give Vaylin anything?”

Valkorian hit her with lightning again.

This time the visions changed rapidly, too quickly for Fiika to pick up details.

_She offered Arcann a hand up-_

_“I WANT TO LIVE, ARCANN, OKAY? I WANT TO LIVE!” And she was dragged kicking and screaming into a lift, Knights holding her prisoner, blood on her lips-_

_Arcann was staring up at her in carbonite, regret on his face-_

_This time he was saying something-_

_Arcann was melting her out, panic in his eyes and cradling her in his arms as he tore down a hallway-_

_Fiika was white as a sheet, and he laid another thermal blanket over her shivering self-_

_Vaylin was with him, glaring up at her carbonite form. She turned and said something to Arcann. He looked less than amused, and relieved when she left-_

_Arcann was furious, files upturned and scattered across his desk. One was labeled ‘carbonite poisoning and side effects’, the others were still falling on the floor . He was staring at a vidscreen, a recording of the swamp attack playing-_

_There was utter horror on his face as he caught her, jacket smoking from his lightsaber-_

_“Fiika,” he said, staring at her._

She kicked out and felt her boot hit something.

That something was hard. Very hard. Pain overrode any other sensation she was feeling, and Fiika screamed.

The slimy sensation of Force-healing collected in her boot and fixed whatever she’d just done to herself.

“He’s weak-”

“YOU BASTARD!” Fiika wiped the rain out of her face, finding herself back in the Odessen wilderness and still pinned up against the ravine wall. “HE’S YOUR SON. AND YOU’VE- YOU COMPLETE BASTARD!”

“Do _not_ mistake your defiance as courage. I do no-”

“You wonder at Arcann being weak when you’re the one who’s encouraged breaking him just because he’s a different sort with kindness in him!”

Valkorian had gone still.

“AND YOU WONDER WHY HE LOATHES YOU, YOU BLOODY-” Her hair stood up on the back of her neck.

Lightning cracked down from the heavens, hitting her.

It wasn’t ordinary lightning, no, this was the foul purple force-lightning Valkorian controlled, and it wasn’t going away after a mere split-second.

She forgot everything she’d been livid about. Her mouth couldn’t open wide enough for the scream to escape. Everything was exploding. Her body was burning up and freezing at the same time, her eyes were going to pop, her skull break. It was like a million fireworks going off in the core of her body and every one made to inflict maximum pain.

And then it stopped.

Fiika stared up at the stars. Rain gently hit her face.

Valkorian leaned over her.

She didn’t have the energy to move. Everything ached.

“This was a fraction of the pain my children can inflict. If you do not finish your training- become something greater- you will feel the full weight of their rage.”

There were a couple things in his words that she could unpack later. Fiika was too busy being rightly pissed off at him. “I can endure anything. Ziost. Carbonite poisoning. Being stabbed. And the worst: having you living in my bloody skull,” she whispered weakly.

Valkorian sneered down at her. “Your goal is not to survive.”

“I’m sorry, is it my goal to let you just kill me or-”

More lightning hit her. “It is to rule. There is nothing else.”

_There’s everything else._

Fiika kept her mouth shut. She didn’t want any more lightning to hit her.

“I cannot stay to protect you any longer. There are matters to which I must attend…” Valkorian started to fade away. Ice was starting to grow along her spine. “But I will leave you with one final token of my favor.” He knelt and ran a glowing hand above her.

The cold stayed, in fact, it was now clustered in a knot around her heart.

“Fulfill your destiny, and I promise to return.”

“Rot in hell,” she hissed.

His smile was cruel. “I have never been your enemy. Remember that, and be victorious.”

“Valk-” But Fiika could feel the freezing cold growing throughout her. He was gone, and she was cold-

_So bloody cold-_

The rain hitting her face felt like icicles impaling her.

Everything turned black.

 

* * *

 

_There was soft music playing._

Arcann slowly spun in a circle. “What is this, Father?”

He didn’t appear, but his voice spoke. “The girl is weak. She will never overpower you, son.”

“Weak?” It wasn’t the word Arcann would have personally chosen. Quite the opposite, in fact. Resilient.

“Let me show you.”

_The music picked up._

Arcann followed it into a squashed room. It was barely the size of his refresher.

_A couch and overstuffed pillows were crammed in a corner, facing mismatched armchairs. The music was coming from Fiika’s mother playing a keybed, fingers arching gracefully over the keys._

_A toddler Fiika was dancing with her father, wearing one of his shirts with a ribbon tied around it to make it look a a dress. He lifted her up and spun her. He was in an Imperial Navy uniform, his cap on Fiika’s head._

_She shrieked in laughter. “Again!”_

_He did it again._

_“Careful, Luuko,” warned her mother._

_Her father put her down. “Should I try dancing with your mum like that, kiddo?”_

_“YES!” Fiika toddled over to her mother. “I- I’s play the keyded. You’s dance with Yuuko.”She had a lisp that was only adorable on small children. She climbed up onto bench. “I’s play, Mummy.”_

_Fiika’s mother and father started dancing in the little cramped living room. He held her close, smiling with his whole heart and making her mother laugh by shaking his hips. Fiika had no idea what she was doing on the keybed, but she was still pressing buttons and pretending to play. The ribbon around her shirt had come untied, but she was too busy grinning at her parents slowly swaying._

Thunder cracked overhead.

_“OY!”_

_She was missing her front teeth and running after a group of boys, all within a few years older than her. The oldest’s voice cracked. Children._

_“CATCH US, SPOOK!”_

_“C’mon, you lug!”_

_“SLOW SPOOK!”_

He frowned at the taunts, and that she wasn’t insulted by them. Were they not trying to get her riled up? Or-

Arcann watched them burst through a door and went after them.

_It was a bakery kitchen. Her father, and another man who looked like an older, overweight version of him were both at a huge worktable. The boys all skidded to a stop and turned to watch her enter._

_“Uncle Garo, they were calling me that name again!” She was trying to look upset, and failing. “Get them to stop.”_

_The other man, her ‘Uncle Garo’, didn’t look up from whatever he was rolling out. It looked like some sort of pastry. “Boys, what’ve I told you about calling Spook ‘Fiika’? Her name’s Spook.”_

_“No-o-o,” she laughed out. “They were calling me- SPOOK!”_

_Her father had picked her up and slung her over his shoulder. “Garo, do you see anyone named Fiika here?”_

_Uncle Garo looked around the kitchen. “Boys, do you see any ‘Fiika’ people?”_

_“No,” they chorused._

_“I’m right here, Luuko!” she giggled._

_Her father let out a fake yelp of surprise and pretended to drop her. “You spooked me, Spook!”_

_“No I didn’t.” But she was grinning and enjoying every minute of it._

Arcann found himself smiling and fixed his expression to be neutral. “Well, Father? What weaknesses am I seeing?”

“Wait.”

The scene changed.

_Fiika was now a young woman, in a naval flight suit and trying to wrestle her chin-length hair into a ponytail, and failing. The bunkroom was nearly deserted. The only other occupant was a Chiss woman, hair shaved in intricate patterns and made of muscle._

_“Need help, Poppet?” She moved in close to help Fiika._

Arcann decided he wholly disliked how the Chiss was running her fingers through Fiika’s hair.

_Fiika’s cheeks turned red. “I- I- Please,” she said breathlessly. Her eyes had gone round the moment the other woman had come close._

_The Chiss woman seemed amused at Fiika’s flusteredness. “Don’t need it all up. Just the front bit to keep it out of your eyes.” She glanced down at Fiika. “‘Cause they’re so pretty to be looking at.”_

_“I- Thank you, Taai.”_

_Fiika’s hair was pulled back and secured. But Taai the Chiss wasn’t stepping back. Instead, she was leaning in closer._

_Fiika went up on her toes and pressed her lips against Taai’s._

Arcann scowled. Was he not- No, no, he was supposed to be watching for Fiika’s weakness. Something to use to end her control over him, something to make him stop wanting that kindness, something to stop himself from-

_Fiika screamed._

_Or rather, tried to._

_She was tied up in a crate typically reserved for transporting mid-sized creatures. Her hands were cuffed to a grate at the front._

He stepped closer to get a better view of her.

_The hold she was in was disgustingly grimey and smelled. Smelled something awful._

_She had her hair in choppy ponytail. Her ankles were chained together. But that wasn’t the worst. Someone had sewn her mouth shut with a ragged pair of stitches through her lip. They’d used wire. Blood had leaked all down her chin and scruffy shirt, scabs around the holes._

_Voices drifted down through a vent in the ceiling. Two people, once with an Imperial accent like Fiika._

_Her eyes lit up with determination._

Arcann watched in fascinated horror as she got the wire stitches caught on the grate, realizing what she was going to do.

_Fiika got her feet flat against the crate, right below where her hands were. She was essentially curled up in a ball, a foot off the ground._

_And then she straightened her back._

_Her scream tore through him._

He could sense the pain, feel his lips go numb.

_There was blood all over her._

_The Imperial accented-voice above roared something and a moment later, a woman with white-blonde hair carved her way through the hold door with a red lightsaber, eyes burning like flames._

He recognized the Sith as the woman who melted the Jedi Pattik and Fiika out of the Spire.

“What weakness?” Arcan asked again. He tried to sound like he was growing impatient, but truth be told, he didn’t want to see what would come next. He’d studied her past. He knew what Father as going to show him.

He could feel Father smiling. “Wait,” he said.

Arcann turned and stared out into space.

_The warship- and it was indeed a warship that they were on, strictly going by size alone- was silent. Everyone at any station was mute, watching the planet before them._

_The Sith from before was there, along with that Zabrak Jedi and another man with one of the ugliest jackets known to the galaxy._

_Fiika, now with her scars on her lips, was bloodless, slowly walking closer and closer to the viewport until she was resting her gloves against the transparisteel. A proper Imperial cap sat smartly over her bun. Her eyes were filled with absolute horror._

Arcann didn’t turn to see what would happen to Ziost. He’d seen the recordings, read the reports. Instead he stood alongside her and watched the planet light reflected onto her face.

_Slowly it grew brighter, making her scars stand out starkly. The colored turned to purple, then red, finally stopping at the color of dried blood._

_Tears dripped down her chin._

_“No,” she shook her head. “NO! NOT-” Fiika whirled and started to sprint towards a lift._

_The man with the ugly jacket tackled her. “YOU CAN’T!”_

_She fought him off with a well-aimd kick between the legs._

_The Sith and Jedi each raised a hand and Fiika struggled against invisible bonds._

_“NO!” she screamed. “NO!” She stared back at the viewport. All the light had faded from the planet. “No, no no no nonononono No No NO!” Fiika threw herself against the transparisteel, wailing.  “NO!” Her voice was raw, face twisted with grief. “NNOOOOO!” She curled into herself, skin blotchy._

Father materialized next to him. “Do you see?”

Arcann schooled his face to give nothing away. “I do not. What does showing me Ziost’s fall have anything to do with her weaknesses?”

Father’s lip curled in disgust.

It hit Arcann that Vaylin did the same thing when she less than happy with him.

“Ziost is her downfall.” Father looked at him sharply. “Mention it, and she lose her temper or become a sniveling mess.” He frowned down in disdain for the sobbing Fiika at their feet. “She’ll destoy Zakuul if she gets the Throne.”

“Why are you taking my side, now of all times?” Arcann studied Father, but he gave nothing away.

“She has refused my power for the last time. That girl is defiant, pathetic. She only thinks to survive, not to rule and forge a new galaxy.” Father looked out at Ziost. “She’s too focused on the past to see the future.”

Arcann remained silent, knowing full well that Fiika’s rage at Father was entirely justified. He… almost supported it. It’d brought around his reign as Emperor.

“So much raw power…” Father muttered. He glanced back at Arcann. “You may go.”

And Arcann found himself falling through space.

 

* * *

 

Everything hurt. And was freezing. And there was a particular little pebble poking her in the shoulder blade.

A soft breeze played with her hair, sending a couple strands to tickle her nose.

Fiika batted them away and immediately regretted it.

_Bloody hell._

Her arm felt like it’d been beaten to a pulp.

She groaned and slowly sat up, wincing at every tiny movement. She didn’t want to open her eyes. The smell of rain and the soggy forest wasn’t there anymore. Her hands had met a gritty dust when she’s pushed herself upright.

Fiika cracked open an eye and cursed.

It was the blasted dream asteroid from when Valkorian had messed with her mind while she was trapped in carbonite.

Something hissed behind her.

Fiika shifted awkwardly, deciding against getting up. Everything hurt, everything was freezing cold, and she was damn well tired. Valkorian had kicked her arse, and she wanted to sleep it off. Defeat did very little for the energization of the soul.

Arcann was lying facedown in the asteroid dust, barely ten feet from her.

Her asylum scar suddenly felt itchy.

She scrambled to her feet, forcing herself to be silent.

_‘Look at him,’ Valkorian crooned. ‘Weak and pathetic.’_

_I thought you left me._

_‘I did. And I brought you both here to face your destinies. End him, and the galaxy will be free from his tyranny.’_

Fiika rolled her eyes, not that Valkorian could see. She watched Arcann apprehensively.

He stood up, slowly turning and taking in the galaxy around them. Asteroid dust was stuck to his robes, and there  was a scratch on his mask. When he faced her, he froze, eye burning bright. “What game is this, Father?”

Lightning crackled out of nowhere and hit him. He dropped to a knee, wincing.

Arcann glared up at her. “You cannot fool me any longer.”

“Bastard.” Fiika was slowly feeling her aches and pains fade with fury. He’d kept her like a trophy on his wall, a prisoner of time and Zakuul, then stabbed her and hunted her and bombarded five planets because he couldn’t find her. Arcann was responsible for stifling the Republic and Empire. He’d locked the galaxy in fear.

And he was standing just out of arm’s reach.

She didn’t have her daggers, her rifle, or any other sort of weapon.

But she charged him anyway.

 

* * *

 

Whatever he was lying in, it wasn’t comfortable, not in the least.

He hissed in irritation and picked himself up, pausing at where he was.

It was an asteroid, hanging motionless in space. Stars and galaxies sparkled around him, nebulas glowing in every color of the rainbow, planets hanging like jewels. Tiny space rocks floated by at the edge of the asteroid, off on their own little journey.

Above the asteroid was beautiful.

Below it… He could sense something sinister. Something deadly and cold.

He turned, looking for an explanation.

And his eyes fell on Fiika Allos.

Or rather, Father taking her form again.

“What game is this, Father?” Arcann grunted in pain as lightning hit him. He fell to his knees, trying to ignore the hurt. It vanished after a beat. He glared up at Father. “You cannot fool me any longer.”

“Bastard.” She said it like she was spitting out poison.

_Father?_

No, Father never called him ‘bastard’. Father called him a fool in a disappointed and irritated tone. If he even acknowledged that Arcann was there, crude insults were not Father’s way of showing his hatred.

It was Fiika.

And then she crashed into him, fist colliding with his ribs.

Arcann ducked under another punch and spun, pushing her away. He didn’t push hard enough to send her sprawling in the dust, no, just hard enough to get her to take a step back so he could gather himself.

He could end her pull over him. He could kill her, right here and now, and he’d never have to think about wanting that little bit of kindness ever again. He wouldn’t hate himself for feeling guilt about keeping her frozen in carbonite.

The next punch she swung at him, he caught with his cybernetic hand.

Fury bubbled away in her eyes.

Good. He wanted a fight.

 

* * *

 

Arcann grabbed her fist out of midair like it was the easier thing ever.

_Bloody Force users._

Fiika whirled and shoved her elbow towards his gut.

He pushed her away.

She tripped over a rock and dropped into a roll, springing back up to her feet.

Arcann was already on her. His hand closed around her wrist.

Fiika kicked him in the chest.

He released her, taking a step back.

Something shimmered in the air behind him. Valkorian. With a cruel smile.

_‘Use his weaknesses against him.’_

“YOU-” Fiika shoved past Arcann. “I WILL-”

“NO!” Arcann’s fingers grazed her arm. “DON’T ATTACK HIM!”

“WATCH ME, YOU TWO-FACED LIAR!” She barreled at Valkorian, vision red. “YOU’LL PAY FOR ZIOST-”

Every ache and pain came back as he hit her with purple lightning. Her ears were ringing, head pounding, blood like ice in her veins. She fell howling to the ground.

It stopped.

Fiika looked up in time to see Arcann leap at his father.

Valkorian flicked him aside with the Force, barely masked contempt on his face.

Arcann thudded into the ground next to her, non-masked side facing her. He squeezed his eye shut.

For a moment he looked like the crying man who’d just lost his arm. Defeated.

_No, don’t think about him like that. He had you frozen for five years-_

_And saved my life-_

_Then re-froze you! He promised to let you live-_

The half-formed visions of him talking to her in carbonite, carrying her after melting her out, the open and near-vulnerable look on his face when he gave her another blanket.

Fiika argued with herself, trying to put aside the cold that was still in her.

“Why?” she finally asked.

Arcann hadn’t moved from lying in the dust a few feet away. His eye flicked over to her, suspicious.

“Why’d you bloody save me just to freeze me again?” She turned to stare directly at him, watching his reaction.

Guilt. That was the only emotion. He didn’t even hide it at first, until he must’ve realized she could see it, and then he glared back. “You were kind.”

“What?”

“You were kind,” he repeated.

“I got that bit. When?” Fiika sat up and froze. Literally. Her chest felt like it was carved from ice. It took all of her self-control to not pull her jacket tight about her and curl up into a very cold and frigid ball.

Arcann looked like he loathed to speak. “You thanked me for… speaking with you on my flagship. And you helped me kill my father.” He glanced over to where Valkorian had been. “Somewhat. You had no reason to help me.”

“You took that as kindness?” Fiika asked incredulously.

“Yes.” He said it so matter-of-factly, not ashamed at all.

Had no one ever just been nice to him to the point that he took someone agreeing to help him kill his father as an act of kindness? Fiika squashed the pity she felt. He was no poor, abused soul for her to rescue. He was an Emperor who had the galaxy under his thumb.

“Yet you stabbed me on Asylum because-”

“Had you not called your allies to attack, the battle would never have happened,” he rasped. “You lied and said you would come with me. I would have made sure you were safe and treated as if you were an Empress while we found a solution to get my father out of your head.” Anger flared across his face.

Fiika crossed her arms to try and keep herself warm. “I was going to. Then I watched you nearly destroy a pillar because it was in the way of you attacking Valkorian.” She paused, considering her words. “I didn’t want to fear being attacked by you.”

“I would not have.”

“You bloody stabbed me!”

Arcann sat up, eye bright with fury. “If you had not ruined the wiring in my arm, it would not have spasmed! I did not intentionally stab you. I-” his volume of his voice softened, but the tone ws still just intense. “I would never.”

“And yet you did.” Fiika gave up all pretense of trying to behave as if she wasn’t freezing from the inside out. She curled in on herself, arms tight and jacket wrapped around her. Her body was shivering uncontrollably.

Pebbles crunched as he shifted closer. Next to her.

Fiika flicked up her collar and buried deeper into her coat. “If you’re going to kill me, just make it quick.”

“No. I- Allow me to return the kindness.”

She looked up sharply at him.

Arcann sat cross legged, stiffly even, hesitance on his face. He held out his hand, his human hand, offering…

“I thought you said not to touch you on Asylum.”

He held her gaze. “Perhaps I’ve changed my mind, Fiika Allos.”

It wasn’t as if he could inflict any more pain on her, or make her any colder.

Fiika took his hand.

It was calloused from his lightsaber, sturdy, warm. Stars, was he warm. Or was she just that cold?

Gold lightning arced between them-

Something shattered in her. The ice-cold knot around her heart that Valkorian had left.

His fingers twitched. “My father was poisoning you. Stealing your life-force.”

The cold stopped growing.

She turned to watch him. “Can you stop choking the galaxy to fuel your empire? I’ve been studying the resource tributes you demand, Zakuul nor the Fleet use up that amount-”

“No.” he pulled his hand away.

“What? Why, you don’t need-”

“I will not be the emperor who made Zakuul known to the galaxy only to sit by and watch as the Republic and Empire test our limits while they makes their own warships to challenge us. Tell me, Fiika Allos, that your Empire would not see us as prey if I did nothing. If it is not your Empire, it is an enemy.” Arcann stared levelly at her. “And I will protect my people from any threat.”

“Your loyalty is commendable.” She stood and brushed off her pants. Slowly warmth was returning to her. “But you’re not helping the galaxy.”

He rose beside her. “Zakuul is my priority.”

Fiika kept her face impassive. “Then if you don’t change your ways, I suppose we’ll just remain on opposite sides of this war.” She let a small smile flicker through. “Even if your reasons are somewhat respectable.” She opened her mouth to say something else, but was thrown sideways. “Arcann!” Fiika bounded to her feet, adrenaline pumping. He’d just tried to kill her, he-

No, Valkorian.

He was standing where they’d been sitting, no longer looking like a ghost. He looked real. Lightning sparks dribbled from his fingers. And he looked carved from stone, eyes burning like bonfires.

Arcann lay at her feet, half-stunned.

Fiika met his look and offered him a hand up.

He took it. “Might we both agree that my father is the more pressing issue than your beloved Alliance?”

“At the moment.” Fiika didn’t like how Valkorian was looking at them. She couldn’t wield the Force, and Arcann wasn’t as strong as his father. Neither of them had weapons.

“You were meant to destroy each other!” Valkorian’s voice shook the asteroid. “YOU PATHETIC FOOLS!”

The asteroid cracked down the middle, separating Arcann and Fiika from Valkorian

Fiika slipped as it tilted.

Arcann steadied her with a hand on her elbow.

Lightning roared through the asteroid and shattered Valkorian’s half. Shards of rock whipped towards them.

“Hold still,” Arcann commanded.

“You think I-” Fiika was cut off as he pulled her close. “What do you think you’re doing, you git, let-”

He raised his hand parallel to the asteroid. With a flick, it tipped , shielding them from the shrapnel and lightning from Valkorian.

They fell through space.

 

* * *

 

Arcann finally saw what was under the asteroid. And empty black hole, devoid of the Force. A place of no return.

And they were plummeting towards it.

Fiika pushed away far enough to be able to look him in the face. She was silent, stark realization on her face of what he’d done. A flyaway chunk of hair slowly rippled as they traveled closer and closer to the black hole.

Traveled closer and closer to death.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “For everything he’s done to you. Your weaknesses aren’t weaknesses. It’s strength. You aren’t him.” Fiika glanced at the approaching darkness, tears stinging her eyes.

_You don’t want to die._

But they were headed towards emptiness anyway.

“For Ziost.” He cleared his throat. “You have my sympathies. My father will pay for that.”

“He’ll pay for everything.” She dug her fingers into his arm. “Where are you going?”

But Arcann didn’t know. She was fading, like a Force ghost. He could see the stars behind her, slowly growing brighter. The grip on his arm was easing off.

Something ripped them apart, something cool and soothing, but he felt nothing but fear as she faded even more.

“ARCANN!” Her voice slowly faded.

She was nearly gone. He could sense her, just barely-

He reached out and felt the ghost of her fingers slipping on his palm. “FIIKA!”

And then everything turned black.

 

* * *

 

Fiika woke with a start. Her heart was hammering, sweat making her shirt stick to her skin, and-

There was an odd weight on her chest.

She propped herself up on her elbows and was greeted with a tongue to the face.

The Sleen from earlier. It whacked its tail up and down in excitement that she’d awoken. And then it chirped and headbutted her chin.

“You’re a happy little thing, aren’t you?” She tickled it under the jaw and the Sleen dropped onto its belly, wriggling in happiness. Fiika smiled and picked it up to set it on the floor of the-

_Spaceship?_

She was in a cramped bunkroom of what looked like an old-model Jedi ship. It was certainly far too bright to be Imperial, and the walls were gently sloping to form a domed ceiling. The other bunks were empty; stripped of their sheets and pillows.

Fiika stood and winced. Her muscles were sore.

Nothing that couldn’t be walked off, though, and she stepped out of the bunkroom door.

It was indeed a Jedi starship. The Republic logo branded on storage crates gave it away, along with the robes hanging over a guardrail.

_Who would be on Odessen-_

_Am I still on Odessen?_

She stepped around the storage crates and into the cockpit.

The flight logs were completely cleared. Along with all pilot information. But outside the viewports was a view of Odessen’s treetops, swaying in the sunshine. Clouds hung heavy in the distance.

Fiika sighed in relief. She was still on Odessen. She just had to find whoever saved her and get them to help her back to the base. She ran her fingers through her hair and re-tied her bun, frowning at her bruised neck from where Valkorian had grabbed her.

Something glimmered in the shadows.

She picked it up off the navigator’s seat.

It was a locket. A particularly old one at that, while it was slightly dented and scratched, was obviously well-loved. It wasn’t dirty despite its age. Opening it revealed a pair of tiny little holo-images. One was a baby, a couple months old and with a spit bubble at the corner of it’s mouth. The other-

A teenager, probably… Fiika hazarded a guess at fifteen. He was tall, but his shoulders weren’t very broad yet. Not as broad as they were now. He was missing the implants, too, but he was unmistakable.

Theron.

Fiika pocketed the locket, intent on asking the owner why they had his picture.

She had an inkling on who’d saved her.

The Sleen butted her leg and let out a high-pitched and delicate yawn.

Fiika scooped it up and held it close, like a baby. She carried it down the exit ramp, noting the many, many sets of muddy bootprints. Some were fresh from last night’s rain. She took a deep breath of the fresh air, smiling faintly.

“Come on,” she told the Sleen. “Let’s find who rescued us.”

 

* * *

 

“Fiika!” Koth knocked on her door again. “C’mon, Fiika, up and at ‘em. Day’s not going to wait for you.”

Nothing.

He sighed and leaned against the doorframe. “Fiiiiiiiika.”

Still nothing. She never slept in this late, but then he knew she’d gone off into the woods to talk to Valkorian. Len had seen her go. Who knew how late she’d been up? Or what Valkorian had said to her? She hated him. Rightfully so, too, Koth knew. He was starting to see that Zakuul’s apparently-not-immortal emperor was not as benevolent as he’d stubbornly believed.

Maybe her talk with Valkorian had gone south and she’d just crashed on her couch.

“She’s not up?” Agent Shan walked up to her door, frowning. He hammered on her door. “HEY FIIKA!”

“I tried that.”

“SPOOK! AGENT FIVE-OH-FIVE! ALLOS!” Agent Shan leaned back, cupped his hands around his mouth, and sang out “OOOOHHHHH FFFFIIIIIIIIIIIIIIKKKKAAAAA!”

“Theron, what have I told you about singing?” Lana appeared at the end of the hall, looking up at him from over her datapad.

“Don’t.”

“Precisely.” She nodded hello to Koth. “Is there a reason we’re congregating in the corridors?”

Koth tapped his fingers on the door. “We’re waiting for Miss Sleepyhead to get up!” he called through it.

Lana went still.

Koth had seen her do this before. She was using the Force for something, and that frown was usually when-

-When she didn’t like what she was sensing.

“She’s not in there,” Lana said slowly.

Koth shook his head. “Then- Is she in the war room already?”

Theron shook his head. “No, I’m checking the video logs.” He touched his implant as the lights flared. He paled. “She never came back.”

The three of them let that sink in for a heartbeat before they broke into a sprint towards the nearest lift.

“She went out through the cantina sub-stairs.” Theron skidded outside the door. “You guys take the lift. I’ll if she left anything- Koth, no!”

Koth tried to push past him. Who knew the lanky spy guy was this strong? “I want to help-”

“You don’t have training.” Theron caught onto his confusion. “Me and Fiika. We’re spies. If she did leave any trace, I’ll know how to look for it.”

“Koth.” Lana’s voice was gentle but commanding.

He sighed. “We need to find her.”

“I know.” She pulled him into the lift and hit the button to take them all the way down. Lana was chewing her nails, boot tapping out a rhythm against the floor.

Koth himself wanted to punch something. He should’ve ran after her when she said she didn’t want to talk, he should’ve gone with her to talk to Valkorian. No, he shouldn’t’ve, and he knew that, but he felt like he ought to have.

He felt like he should’ve protected her somehow. Supported her.

It wasn’t his fault, but-

Why did he feel guilty?

 

* * *

 

The Sleen was particularly friendly. It was the size of a very average two-year-old, roughly easy to carry when it held still, and very, very, hard to carry as it wriggled in excitement at being carried. It had three toes with webbing between, and-

Fiika tried to hold it out of licking range, lest it try to stick it’s tongue up her nose again, and instead gave the Sleen a chance to whack her in the thigh with it’s tail.

“Mate, relax. You’re rather excited for nothing.”

The Sleen didn’t respond other than to lick her cheek happily.

She decided to set it down, if it was going to keep being an adorable little nuisance.

It trotted after her and she inspected the camp around the ship.

Around the ship was an impressive clearing. Tree saplings, up to her hip in height, rimed the edges.

_She’s been here for quite some time. Couple years, at least._

Under one of the ship’s wings was a tent, patched and sporting a rather impressive amount of moss. In it was a small collections of holocrons. Some were the Jedi’s gold and blue, others Sith black and red.

Fiika knew better than to touch them.

She looked up sharply as the Sleen hissed.

At a gonk droid.

“Bloody hell.” Fiika nudged the Sleen out of the tent, patting the gonk droid and apologizing to it. “You spooked the droid, Sleenie.” She paused and sniffed.

Something smelled delicious.

_I haven’t eaten since last night. Anything will smell delicious_.

Fiika followed her nose out of the clearing and down a path forged from wear. The trees faded away to bushes and undergrowth, revealing a massive ravine and waterfall.

Blocking the view of the fire was someone wearing an oversized Jedi robe. There were streaks of white in her braids.

Master Satele.

Fiika walked around the fire, glancing at the stew pot bubbling over it before turning her attention to the Grand Master.

Master Satele had been ageless last time Fiika had seen her on Yavin’s forth moon. Naturally there had been faint lines on her face, minimal gray in her hair.

Now she looked… old.

There were new stress lines webbed across her forehead, frown lines around her mouth, and her crows feet were far deeper than Fiika cared to notice. Her pale eyes still had that resilient spark in them.

Fiika bowed her head respectfully.

“I’ve waited for you for a long time.” Master Satele returned the nod. “Welcome to my humble home, Agent Allos. And…” She looked at the Sleen. “Your friend.”

Her patience wasn’t infinite, not like the Jedi’s. Fiika needed to get back to the base, get back to the mission. Best cut whatever this was short. “So when Valkorian told me to finish my training, he meant with you?”

She smiled faintly. “You’re asking the wrong person.” Her mouth twisted in frustration as she looked off to her left. “Yes, I’m going to offer her a meal. Stop rushing me.” She turned back to Fiika and gestured to an upturned log. “You survived an ordeal. Come sit.”

Motherly was not a word that would ever be snugly applied to the Grand Master, but there was something caring and concerned with how she set about getting Fiika bowl of whatever was cooking over the fire.

Fiika was slightly put off with how Master Satele looked her over while she ate, and the barely amused looks she kept giving to her left. Every nick and scratch was inspected and, at Fiika’s insistence, not force-healed. She’d had enough of force-healing. And- whatever the stew was… it was best left to burn in the pot. It coud even improve the flavor. “Master, I mean no disrespect-”

“Yet you are going to say something rude.”

“Yes.” Fiika shook her head at the offer of a second helping. “I was brought here against my will by Valkorian. People are counting on me for help. I have to get back.”

_One of those people is your son._

Master Satele held her gaze until Fiika was thoroughly unnerve and had to look away. “People are always counting on you.”

“Because I’m vital at-”

“They won’t stop just because you aren’t there.”

Fiika set her stew bowl down for the Sleen. Master Satele’s words were just as tasteless as it. “I know,” she said quietly. The mission would have to go on without her. But the Jedi made it sound like she wasn’t important. And if Fiika wasn’t important, the what was her point there?

_Lana hadn’t meant to melt me out. I wasn’t supposed to be there. I’m supposed to be dead._

_I’m alive because of Arcann._

Fiika pushed those thoughts away, knowing full well that they were going to haunt her later at their earliest convenience.

“Many things changed while you slept in carbonite. I led the fight to save the Republic from Zakuul.” The sun disappeared behind a cloud, casting them in shadow. The fire popped. Hey eyes reflected the flames, haunted. “Nothing prepared me to face that enemy. I failed, again and again. When the Republic surrendered to Arcann, I gave myself to the will of the Force. I left the Core Worlds and found this planet.  We’ve been here for years, waiting.”

_We?_

“So you aren’t alone?” Fiika looked to where Master Satele kept glancing. She could’ve sworn something shimmered in the air as the sun appeared around the clouds. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

“In the Force, we are never alone.” She smiled at Fiika’s droll look. “We sensed your awakening on Zakuul, felt the presence of our old enemy guiding you.” She held up a hand. “Or, I’m willing to guess, _trying_ to guide you.”

“You’re right, there.”

“We witnessed the victories and defeats leading you here.” Master Satele paused, humor vanishing across her face much like how the sun had moments ago. “When we found you in that clearing, we faced a choice. Bring you here, or… end you there.”

Chills that had nothing to do with her carbonite poisoning raced down her spine. Fiika became acutely aware that her rifle would be near useless against the Grand Master. She didn’t get that title for nothing.

The constant use of ‘we’ was bothering her, too. It reminded her of some old stories told to Intelligence recruits about Killiks on Alderaan. While Fiika would bet whatever credits she had to her name that Master Satele wasn’t a Joiner, something else was with her.

Something Fiika couldn’t see.

And that had her on edge.

“You’re saying it was a bloody coincidence that you found me out there?” Fiika snapped her head around to look at the shrubs on her right. The way the wind rustled them almost sounded like… someone chuckling.

Master Satele’s small smile returned. “Of course not. There are unseen influences working through me... Valkorian, and especially you.”

“I’m just a pilot and a spy! I’m no Jedi like Master Pattik or- or- I’m not- That’s rubbish.” Fiika shook her head. She knew she wasn’t some galaxy-changing person. That would be Master Pattik, Lord Beniko, Master Satele herself, maybe even Theron to some extent.

Fiika was a… a pilot, a spy, researcher, medic- whatever Lord Beniko needed. Now she was just a specialist for the Alliance.

_I’m nobody._

“You’ve changed in ways we still don’t understand. Whatever his reasons, Valkorian has opened you to powers, and a destiny, far beyond the horizon of your old life.” Master Satele stood and shook off her robes, limping away.

_I thought I was lucky enough to get him in my head because I was lucky enough to get carbonite poisoning. I wasn't a choice; I was the only option._

Fiika remained sitting on the log. The way Master Satele said ‘destiny’ left behind a bad feeling, not just because Fiika didn’t particularly believe in destiny, but because an old memory, stained with panic and distrust, surfaced in her mind.

It was a reminder that Arann thought himself above destiny too. Heskal the Scion had said as much.

Fiika shoved that memory away before it could create any tangent thoughts, like how maybe Arcann and her weren’t that different-

_Stop thinking like that._

With a start, Fiika realized she’d been petting the Sleen under the chin, and stopped immediately. That creature needed no encouragement.

“You have much to learn.” Master Satele gestured for her to join her at the edge of the ravine. “Follow us. Seek the answers throughout the valley. You will know when you find them.” She force-leapt down in the ravine.

“Well.” Fiika looked down at the Sleen as it pawed at her boot. “You’re not coming with me, mate.” She caught sight of a fallen tree that spanned the narrow ravine. It’d do as a bridge.

The Sleen ran off into the undergrowth.

She started towards the fallen tree. Something small glinted in the sunlight on the far side of it. If she had macrobinoculars, she would’ve looked at it, but they weren’t packed in her survival kit. Fiika got the roots at the base of the tree.

Something chirped behind her.

The Sleen.

It was following her, hanging back a couple feet and watching her with interest. When she looked at it, it whacked it’s tail up and down in happiness.

Fiika hoped it wasn’t about to follow her across the bridge. She got halfway across when the creature cried out.

“You’re not coming. Sorry, but I’ve got important things to do.”

The Sleen stared at her balefully before turning around and slinking into the forest.

Fiika crossed the fallen tree without further interruptions to find that the thing shining in the sun was a holocron.

It was made of dark bronze and glowed gray. Neither Jedi nor Sith.

She hesitantly picked it up, holding it as far away from herself as possible. The last thing she needed was another Force ghost to take up residence in her body.

Instead, Master Satele’s voice floated out. “There is no greater challenge than to change from within. But that is what we all must do to survive.”

Fiika’s grip on it became white-knuckled as images of Ziost appeared in the little windows made from the bronze framework. She shoved the holocron into her pack before it could finish.

_Change does not mean dredging up my homeworld’s death._

Fiika slid down a steep hill to get lower into the ravine.

Thunder rumbled, this time closer.

Another holocron was waiting for her, sitting in plain sight on a particularly large boulder.

Once again, Master Satele’s voice started spewing a lecture. “The most powerful among us couldn’t withstand against the endless legions of Zakuul. Even the Sith Empire learned that lesson too late. On countless worlds I watched Jedi sacrifice themselves to delay the inevitable defeat. We will not let you meet their fate.”

_Master Pattik survived._

She tucked this holocron away next to the first.

Fiika turned and jumped a foot into the air.

Master Satele was waiting for her. She didn’t seem to notice that she’d jump-scared Fiika. “I went to Zakuul in secret to see the Eternal Throne myself. I still bear the scars of that journey.” She shifted her weight off the leg she’d limped on earlier. “On Odessen, light and dark exist in a perfect balance, forming a nexus in the Force.There is another world like it. Zakuul.”

_Of course it’s Zakuul._

“Arcann and his Knights learned to use the Force in a different way from Jedi and Sith.” Master Satele’s shoulders sagged. “It is why we couldn’t truly defeat them.” Sorrow crossed her face for a brief second.

Fiika crossed her arms. She could still see the images of Ziost in her mind. “I’ve faced plenty of warriors from Zakuul. They fell, same as everyone else.” Knights, Scions, Heralds. She’d seen them all die, some quite painfully.

“Don’t confuse them with Arcann.” There was an unusual sharp edge to Master Satele’s voice.

Fiika met her look. “I don’t.”

This time Master Satele was the first to look away. “And his sister is another problem entirely.” She fell silent for beat. “The Jedi approach the Force as companion, the Sith enslave it. But…” She glanced back at Fiika as if she was a distinctively annoying apprentice who didn’t like to listen but had to. “Arcann’s Knights believe the Force is their reward for serving an idol. The Knights obey their master without question, sacrificing everything for his triumph. Devotion makes them strong. You must become stronger.”

“I can’t use the Force.” Fika raised her chin to look up at the Jedi. “And I thought only the Sith cared about being the most powerful. You sound like Valkorian.” She spat his name like a curse.

The air shimmered next to Master Satele. Shadows turned blue, they took a shape of a familiar armor clad-

“Darth Marr-”

“We are nothing like that man,” he growled. He paused, saw that Fiika was still processing that he was a Force Ghost, and sighed. “Valkorian destroyed my flesh, but not my reason for being.”

She searched for something to say, and went with the obvious. “Even as a ghost, you’re still in your bloody armor.”

“Lord Beniko may allow you to mock her like that, but I do not.” Fiika got the sense that he was smiling under his ghostly mask. “I appear to you as I wish to be remembered. A symbol.” He started to pace, walking through vegetation as if it wasn’t there. “After my defeat, I sought  an ally to make things right again.  But only one in the galaxy was my equal. We met on this world, we argued, explored…” Darth Marr trailed off and turned to Master Satele. “And found an understanding. We now pass that knowledge onto you.”

Fiika became very thankful that the rain started to fall right then. The way Darth Marr described teaming up with Master Satele sounded like a horribly sappy holo-novel, one that went far too much into details best left to the imagination.

_I just want to get back to the bloody base!_

She crossed her arms. “I don’t want your help. I’ve had enough of Force ghosts telling me what to do.”

Master Satele frowned at her. “We don’t want to control you-”

“Rubbish.”

“No one is more surprised than I am to be here, in this moment,” the Jedi continued. “But I trust the will of the Force.”

“We do not offer empty platitudes. We do not offer easy victory.” Darth Marr’s mask was facing her, and Fiika got the spectral sensation that his eyes were boring through her. It rather felt like Force-healing.

Master Satele held out her arms in a peaceful gesture. “All we ask is that you listen with an open mind; and learn from our failures.”

“To forge the future, you must first break from the past. Victory over Arcann requires new perspectives… and new weapons.”

Fiika glanced between the pair of them. “Victory how?”

Master Satele remained stoic, rain making dark splotches on her robe. Darth Marr tilted his head as if to say ‘guess’.

“And weapons? My daggers are rather good at ruining his arm. He told me himself.”

“We did not say it would be your weapon. Master Pattik will face down Arcann with you at his side. He requires something to give him an edge.”

“Follow the will of the Force into the wilderness.” Master Satele gestured to the waterfall and river behind her. “Find what we have left for you, and meet us in the cave.” She nodded for Fiika to wade into the river.

It wasn’t as if Fiika was wet already from the rain. Which she was.

She stepped into the frigid river and looked back to see what Master Satele had to say.

But she was gone.

Fiika continued across the river, up to her hip in ice water and warm rain starting to run down her face.

_Just what I need, a bloody scavenger hunt_.

 

* * *

 

Theron stared at the caf machine, looked furtively around the war room, and poured himself a cup.

Fiika was still missing. She’d gone out into the forest, and not a soul had seen her.

He’d combed through the stairs from the cantina down to the ground level twice, and had found one very long hair that was brown and coarse and probably a Wookie’s. No trace of her. Which was in its own way a trace of her.

Koth and Lana had found her boot prints in the mud, but after about twenty meters, they stopped. Like that. Just out of nowhere.

Theron stirred sugar into his caf, and then more sugar.

Somewhere in one of the drawers was an energy power used by that blue-haired engineer of Koth’s- Tora. That was her name.

He found it and dumped a packet in. Nothing could distract him. Nothing. He had to find her, and a little thing like sleep wasn’t going to get in his way. Theron needed every instinct and thought firing as fast as possible. For Fiika.

He drained the mug of caf in one go.

“Okay, Allos. I’m coming for you.”

Theron started towards the lift down to the forest, ready to comb through it again once the caffeine kicked in.

_Wait- I should-_

He paused and make himself another cup to take in a thermos.

 

* * *

 

There was another bloody holocron waiting for her on the other side of the river.

Fiika would have particularly liked a dry pair of underwear and pants, but no, it was a holocron. Not even with a blasted poncho to keep the rain off her face. “What do you have to say?” she asked it as she picked it up.

Darth Marr’s voice answered the moment her skin met transparisteel. “Arcann won’t be conquered through passion, or righteousness. He has emptied himself of weaknesses like sentiment and morality.”

She snorted. “No he hasn’t.” He’d protected her against Valkorian on that asteroid. If that wasn’t some form of sentiment or morality, she’d… well, she wasn’t currently wearing her uniform cap, but she’d eat it when she got back to the base.

His lecture continued; the holocron completely unaware that Fiika had just told it that it was lying. “Your enemy stole his empire through deceit and murder. He’s accustomed to the Dark Side. You must strike from where he’s blind. From within.”

Fiika pushed the holocron into her pack. Arcann- Technically he had become Emperor through deceit and murder, as Marr put it, but that was boiling it down to his basic actions. It wasn’t taking account of how Valkorian treated his son, Marr didn’t consider how Thexan and Vaylin were no better when it came to belittling him. How Arcann thought he was abandoned by his mother.

She didn’t want to guilt-trip him or have him see her how he saw his father, not just because Valkorian was the true monster, but because Arcann had enough abuse. She didn’t want to emotionally manipulate him, either.

Fiika wanted to hug him and tell him that he didn’t deserve any of it and-

_What the hell am I thinking?_

She turned around, went back to the river, cursed, and stuck her head in.

_Arcann lied and hunted you like prey. He doesn’t deserve your pity or-_

His face when Thexan told him that Senya had left them appeared in her mind. Shattered, broken, lost-

Something hit her hard in the side and Fiika was thrown into the river. _Completely_ into the river. She sat up and coughed out the water in her lungs. Her boots oozed water as she sloshed  out the river and collapsed onto her back, staring up through the trees. She squinted as rain hit her in the face.

And the Sleen licked the rain off.

“Oh, you again.” Fiika wiped the Sleen drool off and sighed. “Go back to your family, Sleenie.” She sat up and the Sleen climbed onto the back of her pack, one of its front feet planted on her shoulder and breathing right next to her ear.

She didn’t have the patience to try and coax the thing down.

“Alright, mate, so long as you don’t fall off or lick my ear, you’re fine there, alright? Otherwise you’ve got to bugger off.”

The Sleen responded by doing nothing.

Which was what Fiika would’ve liked for it to have done in the first place.

Fiika climbed to her feet and started through the forest.

A faint path of broken twigs and crushed leaves marked where Master Satele had left behind.

She wiped at the rain running into her eyes; or maybe it was river water, but at that particular moment Fiika didn’t care whether it was rain water or river water; the annoyance at the water running in her to eyes was going to remain the same.

The Sleen didn’t seem to mind. It was sniffing the air excitedly and watching from its perch on her pack.

The bloody thing was using her as a taxi.

Fiika picked up another holocron and realized she couldn’t put it into her pack. The Sleen was in the way.

“It will not be enough to defeat Arcann,” went Master Satele’s voice. “His Eternal Throne and the Fleet it commands are the greatest threats our galaxy has ever seen.”

She put the holocron in her coat pocket and pushed a low-hanging branch out of her way.

Lightning cracked down somewhere near. The booming thunder rolled through her like a wave. The Sleen curled in close, trying to hide under her soggy bun.

Fiika didn’t have time to be cautious with the lightning. Finding the holocrons were her priority. The sooner she found them, and whatever Master Satele and Darth Marr had planned for her in what sounded like a creepy cave, the sooner she could get back to the base, get back to the mission-

_I’ve been missing since yesterday. Someone’s had to notice that I’m gone._

If she knew what direction the base was in, she could try to signal it.

Another flash of lightning turned the world white, and she could feel the thunder in her bones.

Maybe-

Maybe she ought to be careful with the lightning. The Sleen whined, thoroughly terrified, and tried to burrow down her coat collar.

FIika tried to stifle her giggles, because that was exactly where she was ticklish. “Oye, you back there, knock that off- Sleenie, you’re going back down if you keep that up- Hey!”

The Sleen had tried to stick its tongue into her ear.

That was it.

Fiika knelt and pulled the creature off her shoulder. “Go be a nuisance somewhere else.” She left it in the undergrowth, pretending she didn’t hear it start keening.

She hopped over a fallen log and found a holocron under it.

It was one of Darth Marr’s. “The Sith Code teaches us to break our chains. But freedom is not your ultimate goal. You must anchor yourself with power. When Arcann lies dead and defeated, your destiny is to take the Eternal Throne. Any other path will lead to chaos.”

Fiika stared at the tiny little cube in her hands. She felt the word ‘no’ as if it was an emotion. Her knuckles were white, her breathing was out of control-

_No, no no no-_

Nevermind that she didn’t want the Throne, but-

She could imagine Senya staring down at her son, dead. How the Knight would crumple and break and her facade of strength would shatter, the-

No one was ever too far gone to not be pulled back, were they?

He’d be remember as a tyrant by the galaxy, and Zakuul’s short-lived Emperor. Would anyone know of his tiny bit of humanity? That he’d saved some nobody outlander from carbonite poisoning and how vulnerable he was to just a little act of kindness? That he’d spent his life in his brother’s shadow, thinking he was abandoned by his mother and always a disappointment to his father?

Or would he just be Emperor Arcann, the man who brought the galaxy to its knees to protect Zakuul?

Fiika roared in frustration and smashed the holocron against the fallen log. “I DON’T BLOODY WANT THIS! I-” There were hot tears on her cheeks. “I- let me go back to the base.” The base where she knew her job, her place, what she was meant to do at every minute of the hour. Where she wasn’t soaked to the bone or traipsing through the wilderness for little tokens to tell her what her future would be, only for her to no longer want that future.

She wanted a future without any more death. Without any more pain. The only person who had to die was Valkorian, because she was certain that killing him would only pain him, but if he was dead he couldn’t feel pain, so that point was moot.

Fiika stared at the holocron. One of the transparisteel pieces had a crack in it.

“When Arcann lies- defeat-ed,” warbled Darth Marr’s voice in a octave too high and too slow.

She shoved it into her pack and stormed through the rain, ignoring any other signs of holocrons. She’d had enough of her future being told.

 

* * *

 

Night was falling.

Koth had organized the Gravestone’s crew to keep watch and alternate on runs out into the forest on swoop bikes, but with the storm moving in and daylight fading into pitch blackness, he’d been forced to call his crew back to the safety of the base.

Lana was fairly certain that he was pacing the bridge of the Gravestone, scanning the woods with night-vision macrobinoculars. So long as he wasn’t looking through them when lightning struck, she was fine with that.

She, Senya, and Sana-Rae had tried to pinpoint Fiika through the Force, but nothing. Not even a whisper of anything. Sana-Rae had begun organizing the Jedi and Sith in groups to try and sense her. Senya… Lana had seen the Knight pack a small kit and dive into the forest, looking like her was going to tear the world apart.

Fear and anger pulsed through her veins. Fear of what Valkorian could be doing to Fiika. She didn’t want to analyze the anger, but… it was directed at herself. If she hadn’t told Fiika to talk to Valkorian, if she hadn’t put the mission before her closest friend’s emotional health-

Damn her pragmatic streak.

Lana pulled a rotted branch towards herself and kicked it.

She didn’t feel better.

A twig broke behind her.

She whirled, lightning crackling between her finger and casting an unnatural purple glow around her. Just ten meters away was the lift back to the base. She’d made sure to stay in sight of the security cameras, just… just as a precaution.

Instead of anything sinister, Theron stumbled out of the thickets, drenched and with bags under his eyes. “I couldn’t track her. I tried, Lana, I tried and I couldn’t find her.”

His eyes were bloodshot. Strands of hair were plastered to his forehead, implant looking like it had long since fizzled out from the rain.

“I’m going to need an umbrella, or- Hang on, does Admiral Aygo have those jetpacks working yet?” He frowned and tapped his implant. “I’m not getting anything.” Theron pulled a thermos out of his inner coat pocket and opened it. “Blast it, I’m empty. I’ll get a refill when I check the holofeeds. We-have-to-find-her-andareyoucomingLanacomeon.”

She took the thermos from him and sniffed it. Caf. “Theron-”

“Lecture-me-later-we-have-to-find-her.” Theron pressed the lift button. And pressed it again. And again, again, until she was certain that he was going to jam it.

“Theron.”

“It’s-not-going-fast-enough.” He shook his head and took his thermos back. “I- I can’t think fast enough. I-” A thought struck him silent. “Does Tora with the blue hair have more caffeine packets?”

_What did you drink?_

Lana pressed him against the lift wall, hand on his chest. His heart was beating fast enough that Captain Visz could dance to it. “Theron! How much have you had?”

His look was grave. “Not enough. Fiika’s still missing.”

“You’re going to do some permanent harm to yourself if you have any more-”

“I have to! I have-to-find-her-I-mean-what-if-she’s-hurt-and-” He took a deep inhale.

Lana took the empty caf thermos from him. “No more.”

He stared down at her.

She could’ve sworn his heart was beating faster, skin warm under his soaked shirt. His look was intense. He couldn’t sense her emotions with the Force, but Lana got the impression that he knew how she felt all the same.

“Don’t blame yourself,” he whispered.

“Don’t drink caf,” she fired back softly.

Theron moved away from her as the lift doors opened. “I’ll stop drinking caf when you stop blaming yourself.”

He left her standing in the lift.

 

* * *

 

Fiika glared fiercely at Master Satele and Darth Marr’s ghost.

The pair was waiting outside of the cave for her.

Something, probably her common sense, told her to not go into the cave.

So Fiika stood in the rain, not that she could get any wetter, but she could get angrier. So angrier she got. “What’s it now?”

Master Satele didn’t flinch at her tone. “The Force is in motion, and we must follow.” She blinked, sorrow crossing her face for a moment. “The old ways aren’t enough. We’ll show you the new way.”

“In life, I dismissed the Jedi Code. I was wrong.”

Fiika looked sharply at Darth Marr when he said that.

“There is no death. There is only the Force. And it has a plan.” His ghost gestured to the dark and foreboding cave. “The will of the Force if a flowing current. You can follow or fight it, but it is always there.”

If the cave was in a horror holo-film, it would have been the home of the villian. Probably full of animal bones, creepy and dank. Chains of skeletons in the shadowed corners. Maybe even a body laid out and cut open for experiments.

Fiika reached for her daggers and cursed. Her rifle would have to do.

And she stepped into the cave.

Rainwater trickled past her boots, down the cave floor and pooling somewhere out of sight. Luminous fungi decorated tiny crevices.

She crept further in.

Wherever the rainwater was going, it was far, far below.

Glowing mushrooms outlined a rock bridge over a black… hole in the ground.

Fiika took a hesitant step, eyeing the shadowy figure across the chasm. All she could make out was that the person was robed. Halfway across the bridge, and she could hear what the woman was saying.

“Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock…”

Unnerving wasn’t close to what Fiika felt. Her boots crunched on pebbles as she approached the figure.

“Tick-tock, tick-tock… Tell me, do you believe in the future?”

Fiika kept her rife trained on the woman. “I… believe the future can be whatever I want it to be.”

The figure turned slowly until a pair of burning eyes gleamed at her from under a deep hood. “Arcann has a future. You… don’t.” And Vaylin blasted her with purple Force-lightning. “My brother will have your head!”

Fiika hadn’t rolled out of the way fast enough. She fell to a knee, screaming through the pain. Maybe she could nettle Vaylin into losing her temper- Ice erupted along her spine. She didn’t bother to aim.

And so she fired her rifle.

Vaylin moved to the right and giggled. “You think you can win! I love it!”

Fiika tossed her rifle aside and pushed through her tingling muscles, breaking into a sprint and tackling Vaylin. Her fingers closed around her lightsaber. She whacked Vaylin across the face with it.

“No more holding back!” Vaylin’s hand closed around her bruised throat. “Never again,” she hissed in Fiika’s face.

Fiika activated the lightsaber the same moment Vaylin Force-pushed her.

She went flying backwards and fell, rolling over the edge of the chasm. The bottom half of her body was dangling into nothing. Only her arms were keeping her from a certain death.

Vaylin was staring at her, agape. There was a perfectly neat little hole in her belly, right where Fiika had activated the lightsaber. She pitched forward to curl up into a ball, silent and in all likeliness, dead. And then-

She faded away into mist.

“What the-” Fiika scrambled as the rock under her cracked. She couldn’t grab anything in time-

And she dropped into the emptiness below.

 

* * *

 

Being dead felt very uncomfortable, Fiika decided. First off, her clothes were damp and sticking to her. Second, her bun made a distinctively poor choice of a pillow. Her neck was just at a terrible angle. And third.

The third thing made Fiika very suspicious that she was, in fact, not dead, nor even mostly dead. She was probably very much alive, because the blasted Sleen from earlier was sniffing her face and nuzzling her chin.

“Sleenie,” she groaned, and gently lifted the creature off her.

It curled up next to her.

Fiika sat up and rolled her shoulders. She was still in the cave, and a fire was lit, arguably making it more welcoming. Master Satele sat beside the fire, one leg outstretched and elevated on a rock.There was a pressure bandage over her pants at her thigh, the sort that helped circulate blood.

Over the fire were a couple sticks with some sort of dough and meat on them.

She turned and frowned in the direction of the entrance. There was no bridge, no bottomless hole in the floor. “I… fought Vaylin. She was right… here.” Fiika realized she was lying where Vaylin had collapsed.

Master Satele waved her over. “That was merely a warning. A vision. You do not use the Force, but Valkorian’s power may let you glimpse through it.”

“Could it give me winning lottery numbers?”

“No,” Darth Marr said flatly. He materialized standing next to Master Satele. “Heed what you saw. Behind Arcan stands Vaylin...and behind her, many others. They will try to stop the Alliance. The weapon your Alliance Commander wields was built for a different war. A different enemy.” He gestured to a box beside Master Satele. “Pattik must change as you have. He must be ready to finish Arcann this time.”

Fiika took a dough-wrapped meat thing from over the fire. “Pattik kills Arcann now, does he? I thought you said I did?”

Darth Marr sounded far from amused. “Regardless of who delivers the killing blow, both of you will be there to witness his end.” He waved his hand, and the box opened.

Out floated the holocrons. Each, even the cracked one, opened to reveal little bits and pieces, all-

“You can build a lightsaber with these,” Fiika said softly. She’d seen Lord Beniko take apart her lightsaber, only once, when it’d been hit with a blaster bolt and needed a new power core. Some the pieces looked familiar. She reached out and touched the carved spirals on the grip. “This is from Ryun’s lightsaber.” It was near impossible to forget. On Yavin, his entire lightsaber seemed to be made of endless spirals and each fit together perfectly.

“Yes.” Master Satele gazed at it with regret. “I… It was recovered on Korriban. I thought Pattik would be honored to have part of his apprentice’s lightsaber with his.”

“Isn’t making a lightsaber a… sacred thing for Jedi?” Fiika picked off bits of food from the stick. “Is- can I even make it for him?”

The Grand Master smiled. “We offer to add our own strength to yours. The Force will be the guiding hand through you.”

She shoved the rest of the dough-wrapped meat thing into her mouth and nodded.

Darth Marr and Master Satele laid out the parts. Fiika helped herself to a second serving of the food before sitting cross legged between them. “How does this work-”

They each placed a hand on her shoulder and everything fell apart.

 

* * *

 

Fiika stared down at her hand. It looked like her hand, felt like her hand, but it just happened to be creating flesh-colored smoke; making it blurry and shadowed. She looked up at Master Satele and stared.

The Jedi practically shimmered with light, but on her leg with the pressure wrap was a slash of darkness.

Fiika turned to Darth Marr.

He was wreathed in flames, no longer a ghost. Blood poured like a waterfall off his armor, disappearing in steam.

The Sleen, across the fire, was an odd mix of shadows, brighter than it ought to be and far larger than Fiika remembered.

She inspected herself. Her clothes hadn’t changed, but she didn’t feel- Fiika touched her hair. It was coiled into twists around her head with a disturbingly large amount of pins. Her scars were tingling.She looked down at where her shadow would have been.

Master Satele and Darth Marr cast enormous shadows, but it was Fiika’s… She was giving off the light that cast their shadows.

“We’re ready when you are,” Master Satele said gently.

Fiika instinctively picked up the hilt and reached for the battery pack.

 

* * *

 

Lana ran her fingers through her hair again.

Havoc had safely arrived at the relay station, and were going to begin the assault in the morning. Kaylio and Pattik had infiltrated the Old World, and from what Pattik’s very terse messages to her had said, they were going to infiltrate one of the fighting arenas, making Pattik front and center to draw everyone’s attention to him.

It was obvious that he and Kaliyo were far from a dream team.

She eyed Theron from across the war room.

He was literally plugged into the base’s surveillance feed. A tiny, delicate-looking cord went from his implant to the nearest computer terminal.

Theron himself looked as fragile as the cord. His eyes were still bloodshot, various mugs of stale caf sat on his desk, and stubble covered his jaw. He was alternating which caf mug he drank from, always taking a sip from one every minute or two, frowning, muttering to himself ‘no not that one’ before picking up another.

She knew his heart rate was dangerously high. And that he was going to hate himself in a week’s time for drinking so much caf.

Saying she was worried about him was a deep understatement.

Lana needed to take some drastic action to get him to take a short break, or even better; get some sleep.

She’d probably already ruined her friendship with Fiika. Why not end her’s with Theron as well while she was at it?

Lana poured the stim into the mug of decaffeinated caf and stirred in enough sugar to make it sweet enough to give anyone but Theron a stomach ache. She set it down in front of him. “I made you some fresh caf.”

He stared at her. Or, to be more precise, through her. “What did you put in it? The cameras saw you put something in it.”

“A stim. To keep you alert without all the caf.” It was a half-truth. Not exactly a lie. It was stim. Lana resisted the urge to push his hair out of his face. His spikes had been gone since last night when he’d came back out of the rain and insisting that he needed caf.

Theron squinted at her. “Okay. You drink it first.”

Lana was well aware that she was about to deserve whatever fallout was going to come her way when he realized later what she’d done. She gathered the Force and nudged his mind. “You don’t need me to drink it first.” She ignored the dirty look from Senya.

He blinked at her. “Okay.” And he drank the whole mug. “Did-” Theron frowned at her. “Did you forget the sugar?”

“No.” Lana Force-tricked his mind again. “We should go for a walk. You could use a break.”

Theron shook his head. “No-we-need-to-find-Fiika.”

“A walk could clear our heads.” She took his hand and unplugged him from the computer. “I could use a walk. And the company.” Lana tugged him to his feet and started down the corridors towards his private quarters. She could sense his mind, scattered to every corner possible and beginning to slow down with the stim.

By the time they reached his room, Theron was blinking to try and keep his eyes open. He was half-draped over her shoulder.

Lana got his door open and heaved him onto his bed.

Theron fell face-first into the pillows and didn’t move.

“Obviously you’re going to make this as difficult as possible,” Lana muttered. She unbuckled his boots and gently removed them, tucking the pair neatly in the designated spot in his closet. His belt and the infernal red jacket were put in their places as well.

She paused, fingers hovering over his shirt buttons.

Theron was now on his back, dead asleep.

He wouldn’t wake up even if she screamed in his face.

Lana carefully unbuttoned his shirt and placed it in the dirty laundry. She needed to get him out of his pants and into pajamas, if only for his own comfort. It was- Not that she had ever considered undressing him, but if she had, this was not the circumstance that had been taken into consideration.

“I’m sorry,” Lana told him, and very, very carefully, almost painstakingly, wriggled his pants down his legs until she yank them past his feet and threw them into the hamper. She made absolutely no note of his underwear or anything in that general area. He deserved his privacy.

She hunted through the drawers and cupboards in the closet until she found a pair of sweat and gently put them on him.

He was still thoroughly asleep when she finished and covered him with a soft blanket.

“Sleep well, Theron.” Lana ducked down and kissed his forehead. “You need it.”

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t as though lightsabers themselves weren’t fearsome enough as it was, but the new one, made by the Force through her and Master Satele and Darth Marr, was… fearsome, for lack of originality.

The blade was silver, and the pommel was a very long and with a very sharp spike that would probably do as much damage as one of her daggers.

She had a feeling that Master Pattik would take to it almost immediately.

“The next time Pattik faces Arcann in battle, he will not be ready for it.” Darth Marr’s ghost was half-visible. The bottom half of him was in sunlight, the top half in shade from the forest. To Fiika, he appeared to be a floating torso.

“But violence can only destroy.” Master Satele flicked a piece of leftover meat at the Sleen. “It doesn’t inspire others to greatness, and it can never rebuild. Only a leader can do that.” She tucked the lightsaber into Fiika’s pack. “We know what it means to fail those who counted on us. We… would spare anyone that pain.” She sighed and pulled the locket out of Fiika’s pocket.

She’d forgotten that it was there.

Master Satele stared down at the two images, bittersweetness in her eyes. “Give this to him.” She pressed the locket into Fiika’s hand. “There is an oasis not far from this cave. Your final lesson waits there.”

“I’ve got one question.”

“Only one?” Master Satele asked, amused.

Fiika got the feeling that Darth Marr was smiling under his mask. She nodded. “How long have I been missing from the base?”

Darth Marr answered. “Two nights ago was when we found you. Yesterday you awoke on the ship and made your way here. This morning, we crafted a weapon to bring about Arcann’s downfall.” He paused and tilted his head. “About three days.”

“Bloody hell.” Fiika ran a hand down her face. “I- which way is this oasis? I need to get this over with.”

Koth was probably out of his mind with worry.

Master Satele pointed solemnly into the wilderness. “You can’t rush this one.”

_I’m efficient._

Fiika turned and started through the woods. Gnats buzzed her, the Sleen was pattering along at her heels, and she was exhausted.

There was a lightsaber in her pack. A sleen following her. And Fiika felt- no, _knew_ , that she didn’t want to kill Arcann. Not how Darth Marr and Master Satele said that she would; like it was his destiny to die and for Fiika to play a role in it.

Enough people had died. Ziost. Imperials, Republicans, Zakuulans.

She was tired of death.

And tired in general.

So tired, in fact, that Fiika nearly walked into a juvenile swamp creature.

It roared at her and she stumbled back in surprise, seeing double-

No, there were two of them.

Two four-foot tall and aggressive little beasties with claws.

Fiika wrestled with her rifle and booted one back. The other tackled her, and she tumbled backwards into the undergrowth.

The Sleen shot out of the shadows and clamped its jaw on the creature’s neck. It thrashed about, blood spilling out of the other’s neck.

Fiika popped up out of the bushes and buried shots into the other creature’s chest. She turned around to find the Sleen happily licking itself clean of blood, sitting on the body of the creature.

Whatever the creatures were, they were nothing up against a baby Sleen. The Sleen’s tongue snaked out and got a drop of blood off her boot.

She stepped over the bodies and frowned at the cave entrance the pair of creatures had been guarding.

_Can this be over?_

She wasn’t referring to the final trial.

Fiika pushed her rifle back behind her and discovered that the cave was more of the tunnel. A the back of it shone an opening full of sunshine, flowers lining the edge. She picked up her pace and broke into a jog,. She had to be close to the base.

She stepped into the sunshine and stared down an mid-sized waterfall, about the height of a Zakuulan dropship. It was wide, and standing atop in fury was an enormous version of the swamp creatures she’d just killed.

“You killed her children,” Darth Marr said softly.

Fiika turned around to see his ghost standing in the shadows of the cave.

Then his words hit her.

Her children-

“She will devour you as revenge,” the Sith warned. “What will you do to escape such raw fury?”

The creature leapt down from atop the waterfall, wading through the river to stare her down. Hatred was in it’s eyes.

And then Fiika wasn’t standing in the wilderness anymore.

_There was sand on the floor of the tent, a broken man with one arm trying to hide his tears. His twin looked on in vague concern and disappointment._

The creature knelt, at eye level with her.

_A boy, screaming for his mother, alone and feeling like he was the reason she’d left him. Soaked to the bone with rain but the guilt seeping far deeper into his soul._

Fiika met the creature’s glare. Embers lurked in it’s eyes-

_Embers like in Valkorian’s eyes as he flicked a pair of lovingly-made bracers at his son. She took a step forward, a step between Valkorian and Arcann. The bracers would hit her; she would protect him from that pain._

The creature leaned in close, about to roar.

Fiika bared her teeth. “No more,” she growled.

The embers left the creature’s eyes and it fled, climbing back atop the waterfall, keening for it’s children.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. Darth Marr.

“You created peace from a violent confrontation. Impressive.” He took his hand off her shoulder. “The Alliance will collapse is you do not know yourself, and the ideal you serve. Do you understand?”

Fiika did not have the mental energy to think about anything past finding a way to a warm shower and a bed. “I’m going back to the base now. If you stop me, I will personally find a way to harm you even though you are already dead. Do you understand, Marr?” she left off his title on purpose, letting her level glare comunicate how thoroughly done she was with everything. “There is no destiny.”

She got the profound sensation of severe disappointment coming from him.

Darth Marr pointed silently across the river, before he slowly faded away into the shadows.

Fiika turned and went in the direction he pointed.

Her mind was spinning, and Arcann’s face, bloodied and covered in kolto on Korriban, kept surfacing.

She wanted to curl up into a ball and cry, but she was so close to the base, so close-

There it was.

Fiika could see the lift. She pushed through the undergrowth and joined the path that led to it.

Home. Well, as much of a home as it could be. She didn’t belong anywhere else.

She stepped into the lift and gazed back out into the forest. She could've sworn she saw Darth Marr in the shadows for the briefest of seconds, accompanied by Master Satele.

The Sleen had followed her again. It stood right outside the lift, watching her sadly. It opened its mouth and cried out softly.

_You don’t have a home, either, do you?_

A tear slid down her cheek.

“C’mere.” She held out her arms and the Sleen leapt into them, chirping happily and licking her neck.

Another tear made its way down to her jaw.

 

* * *

 

“She’s back!” Theron burst into the war room, hair sticking up one side and trailing a blanket around his shoulders. “Fiika!”

Lana looked up sharply in relief. “Thank the Force.” She made no move to ask him how he slept or how he’d woken up. That was a discussion they could hold once he got dressed and they knew Fiika was okay.

Koth was muttered praises to the Zakuulan Gods under his breath

Theron pulled up the surveillance feed of the lift.

And Lana swallowed  down her guilt.

Fiika looked a mess. There were deep bags under her eyes, skin pale under a sunburn, hair greasy and in a sloppy bun. Her clothes were splattered with mud and stained with grass. Tears were leaking down her cheeks. A ring of bruises were around her neck, some starting to yellow and others looking fresh and dark.

But there was one word, one word that fit her expression perfectly and chilled Lana.

Hollow.

Fiika looked hollow.

And she held a baby Sleen in her arms.

_I- This is my fault._

Fiika stepped out of the lift and was lost on the camera feed.

Lana sunk down into a chair, grappling with herself. It was her fault, she’d asked Fiika to talk to Valkorian because of a tiny chance at any advantage. But with Fiika broken like this, just like how she had been right after Ziost-

She’d taken one of their best assets and shattered her, while jeopardizing the current mission.

Lana hated herself right that moment.

The door to the war room whispered open.

Fiika was staring down at the Sleen in her arms. She shoved something at Master Pattik and continued past everyone.

Koth was half-standing, deep concerned etched across his face. “Fiika-”

She froze for beat before disappearing down the corridor.

Theron watched her go. “Give her some time. She’ll tell us what happened when she’s ready.”

Lana could feel him looking at her. She was to blame.

 

* * *

 

“Cheer up, big brother,” Vaylin crooned as she skipped up to the Throne.

Arcann was lounging in it, slowly spinning his lightsaber with the Force, and looking pensive. There was a brooding heaviness to his presence that Vaylin didn’t like. He glanced at her, but he didn’t really look at her. Her brother was staring right through her, thoughts somewhere else. Or on someone else. Like that nobody pilot who’d killed Father and made Arcann’s weak side fester with… misplaced affection.

That girl had to hate him after everything he’d done to her. At least, she’d have to convince him of that.

Vaylin sighed. “You’re making me sad.” And then to pull his attention back to the present, she grabbed his lightsaber with the Force and yanked it to her.

She wasn’t really going to challenge him for the Throne, but he could think that she was.

Fear was always a great motivator, and she feared him leaving her like everyone else.

He rocketed to his feet, watching her, guarded. Arcann seemed to realize that she was just teasing him, and partially relaxed. He descended the dais to be on the same level as her. “Father won’t face me himself.”

Vaylin smiled unkindly. “He’s just punishing you for stealing his chair.”

Arcann shook his head and stared out at the stars. “He isn’t angry…”

“Oh?” She’d be furious if someone took something of her’s. Like, say, her brother.

“Father never feels anything. Not even when I-” He choked on his words. “When Thexan died.”

Vaylin stood next to him. “He was a good brother.” She knew exactly how he’d take that statement. Maybe it’d pull him back to them, brother and sister ruling over Zakuul and keeing their people safe. He’d try to be a better brother and not leave her. “Brought me gifts from all the worlds he conquered.”

Arcann was completely still. Vaylin was very aware that Thexan had been sent to more worlds in the Eternal Empire than him. Arcann had been forced to stay behind and train. Perhaps that explained why he’d killed Thexan. He was better with wielding lightsabers.

And she still had his in her hand. He was weaponless.

He looked at her over his shoulder, wary. “I freed you from Father’s control. I hope that earned your… support.”

She sneered, lip curling at the mention of the ‘control’ Father once had over her. The stupid phrase, how she was force to listen-

Arcann knew it. He knew what to say, how she couldn’t fight it. Not once had he even dared say the word ‘kneel’, much less the rest of it.

Vaylin offered him his lightsaber back. “My loyalties lie here, Arcann.” She didn’t let of the lightsaber when he took it, instead waiting until he looked directly at her. “Always.”

 

* * *

 

Koth hovered outside the door.

Fiika’s door, to be specific, otherwise if it was any other door, he would’ve gone right on in.

She’d been in there all day. Not that he’d paid attention. Which he had. He was worried about her, he had a right to be, since they- were- sorta a couple. He wasn’t sure how to put it, and that was something to bring up another time, but he had a right to be worried about her.

He tried his access code on the door lock and it clicked open.

If she really wanted to be alone, she would’ve turned off all access codes. Or maybe she did, and his was the only one she’d kept working.

Koth silently stepped in, telling himself he was just going to check on her.

She was dead asleep on her bed, back pressed against the headboard and the Sleen curled up with her. Fiika stank of shampoo and floral soap. There was a tattered old blanket clutched to her chest, too. It’s edges were lined in pilled synthsilk. Her baby blanket. He’d seen it sitting in the storage boxes still stacked in the corner of her room.

He smiled, relieved and happy that she was back and in one piece. Koth gently shut her door behind him and headed to the war room.

A diagram of the relay station glowed brightly over the center table. A pulsing red dot showed where Havoc Squad and Major Jorgan were. Lana and Agent Shan were side-by-side, and there was definitely an air of… something between them, and Koth wasn’t going to pry.

Senya was off to the side, looking murderous.

Koth was glad she wasn’t looking at him like that.

“Recon team gave the all-clear.” A tiny, inch-tall Major Jorgan appeared in the corner of the diagram. “We’re entering sub-level four.”

“Five by five, Major.” Agent Shan switched computer terminals, implant flashing like a fireworks display. “Transmitting optimal path to next security checkpoint.”

Lana held up her comm. “Try to not shoot everything this time. There are only so many storage lockers to put Skytroopers in.”

“That’s half the challenge.” Major Jorgan smiled, but it was the sort of predatory smile of a hunter ready to pounce on his prey. “What kind of Sith are you?”

Koth shook his head, smirking. He busied himself at the caf machine and spied a basket of muffins. He stuck one in his pocket for later and picked up another. He caught Agent Shan looking at him and held up one, offering it. At the spy’s nod, Koth tossed it to him.

Lana gave them each a dirty look for getting crumbs on the floor.

The lift opened up, and Master Pattik entered. Rain dotted his tunic. He’d been out for his morning meditation.

And Koth noticed the shiny new lightsaber hanging on the Jedi’s belt.

Senya beckoned the both over and handed Agent Shan her datapad. ‘“I’ve identified the hyperwave relay station’s weak points. Demolition charges at each one will maximize the blast radius.”

Agent Shan, muffin in one hand and datapad in the other, tried to click on the file. Instead, he hit the button to un-mute a holocall. “Oh… shit.”

A miniature Kaliyo appeared alongside the miniature Major Jorgan. And she looked pissed. “You want to destroy our best chance to take control of the Eternal Fleet. Unbelievable.” Her hologram paced in place. “I feel my IQ dropping just hearing you talk.”

Koth leaned forward to talk directly into the nearest comm. “Maybe you’ll forget how to breathe.”

Senya pulled it away from her, glaring at Kaliyo. “You mission’s been complete for over a day! Get off this channel and my planet.”

“Havoc Squad needs radio silence to do its job,” warned Theron under his breath.

“Hold up.” Major Jorgan went still and raised a fist, presumably telling Havoc to stop. It looked like his hologram was punching Kaliyo in the nose, and Koth fully supported that. “We’ve got trouble. A dozen Knights coming in behind us.”

Lana’s lips were pressed into a thin line with worry. “Someone found your mess on level nineteen.”

The Major snorted. “If that were true, there’ be twice as many-”

And the comm cut off.

Everyone froze. Well, everyone but Agent Shan. He started pressing various buttons and flicking switches. At the rate he was going at, he’d burn out his implant. “Major? Major, come in.” He smacked the table. “We’ve lost the signal.”

Lana seemed to curl into herself, looking guilty.

“We can still salvage the mission.” Pattik took over the computer terminal and began pulling up the schematics of the past levels Havoc had passed throught. “If we send our backup-”

“She isn’t bac-up!” Senya jabbed a finger in Pattik direction. “She’s collateral damage!”

A thought struck Koth. “Hang on, Senya…” His instincts told him to not meet her gaze when she fixed her glare on him. He plowed on anyway, instincts be damned. “The Knights might kill her for us.”

The Knight didn’t seem to appreciate his humor. Her loss.

“I’d rather ask forgiveness than permission.” Kaliyo armed a pair of grenades. “But I don’t need either of them. I’m halfway through level ten. Consider the mission complete. Oh, look, things to shoot. Be seeing you all.” She gave them a sarcastic salute and signed off.

Agent Shan summed up what everyone was thinking with one phrase. “Well, shit.”


	16. Greed, Grief, and Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fiika gets roped into helping Captain Visz work on the Alliance's lack of money. Lana feels guilty, Theron comforts her, and Pattik has a visitor from the past. Arcann wrestles with his emotions while Vaylin plans.

If there was an upside, indeed, any sort of upside at all, to having been lost in the wilderness for three days on account of a malicious ghost in her head, it was that Fiika was given a very wide berth.

Actually, there were two upsides; Koth had made her hot chocolate for breakfast.

Fiika held the travel mug in her hands, keeping them warm. She’d been cold since she’d gotten back, and unless she was in a boiling hot shower, the chills hadn’t abated. After she was done having the Sleen checked over by Doctor Oggurobb, she was going to the med-bay for kolto and perhaps some tests.

“So…?” She prompted the Hutt.

Doctor Oggurobb rubbed the Sleen’s back. “He’s healthy, Agent. Young, probably just a couple months old. Unusually friendly, too, for a Sleen this young and undomesticated. He must really like you.”

Fiika sipped her hot chocolate. “So it’s definitely a he?”

“Yes, his organs are completely internal, but if you feel here-”

“I don’t really want to know.” She pet the Sleen’s head. “But he needs a name.”

Doctor Oggurobb shrugged. “Sleens can be intelligent creatures, or…” He trailed off. “Or they aren’t. It depends on the Sleen. I remember, my great-uncle had some, and one was…”

She toned him out, smiling down at her pet.

The Sleen licked her hand and nosed it for more treats. He’d gotten some leftover protein cubes for breakfast, and was looking for more. He peered around Fiika excitedly.

Fiika glanced over her shoulder. 

Theron was approaching. There were deep circles under his eyes, and from what she’d been told by Koth, Theron had gotten into the caf while she’d been missing. “Morning.”

“Not good morning?” she teased.

“It’d be a good morning if we knew where Major Jorgan was.” He fell silent. “But… I gotta clear my head. What’s the news with this little guy?”

Fiika pulled her coat about her. “For starters, he  _ is _ a guy. And he needs a name-”

“Theron.”

“That’s your name.”

A small smile appeared on his face. “What, is it not good enough?”

Doctor Oggurobb caught her attention. “If that is all, Agents, I will return to creation.” At their nods, he surged back to his desk.

Fiika gave Theron a flat look. “Your name is perfectly fine for you, but he’s a Sleen. He needs a proper name.”

“Like…” He motioned with his hands for her to give him an example.

She frowned. “I don’t know, something like… Tank or something similar.”

Theron looked down at the Sleen. “Tank does  _ not _ suit him.”

“I know that. Something like it.”

He let the Sleen sniff his hand, and when given approval, scratched him below the chin. “Maybe… Sergeant Slime?”

“No.”

“Scout?”

Fiika took another drink from her travel mug. “Definitely no.” She tilted her head, thinking. “I was thinking- Well, when he first found me in the forest, he spooked me. So… I was thinking Spook. Like how I spooked my family once and they started calling me that. I’ll carry on the nickname with him.” She knelt to look the Sleen in the eye. “Do you like that? Spook?”

Theron sighed. “You know that was your codename on missions back before… everything. You’re going to confuse everyone.”

Spook the Sleen licked her cheek.

Fiika grinned. “Perfect.”

* * *

 

If he could have avoided the gala, he would’ve, but after so many rumors of secret Alliance bases and attacks in the swamp, not to mention the Jedi Pattik taking over a fighting arena and being broadcasted all over Zakuul, Arcann was without choice. He had to make at least an appearance at the party and act as though everything was fine.

Which it wasn’t.

He was far from fine.

Conflicted was a far better word. In fact, it was the perfect word.

Arcann was conflicted.

He ought to hate her. Izak take him, he’d spent months telling himself exactly that, and had even started to, but then she appeared on that asteroid next to him, full of fury and swinging, and had charged Father without hesitation.

And she’d promptly been pushed back on her rear, stunned.

He could remember feeling hate like that.

Actually, now that he gave it some thought, he still did, but less at the galaxy in general and more, if possible, towards Father and that cursed Alliance that threatened Zakuul’s peace. It was Father’s lack of ambition that Zakuul had stayed in the shadows for so long. Zakuul would be a shining example of the best of the galaxy under Arcann’s rule; he’d bring his empire the glory it rightly deserved.

But then her hand had been cold and soft against his.

He’d seen snow, once, years and years ago when Mother had taken him and Thexan a far-off world to see her mother. Arcann couldn’t remember the planet or the system. Just a weathered face and endless snow. Soft and cold and magical.

Fiika’s hand had felt like snow.

Arcann stared down at his palm, feeling the ghost of her fingers against it as she scrambled to grab him.

And then he felt eyes on him.

He glanced across the other balconies lining the upper levels, offers views of the dance floors and beast pits below.

Vaylin was watching him. She'd crafted her own mask for the gala, and… Arcann found it unnerving. Most of the socialites had gone for lighter masks, but Vaylin’s covered everything above her mouth. Completely black, with scales outlined in gold. Fangs made of silver protruded over her mouth.

She looked like a…

Arcan knew exactly what she looked like, and why she’s done it.

Vaylin’s mask was a dragon.

He stared back until she looked away and left her balcony.

_ I am not in the mood to play games, sister. _

Arcann turned back to his thought.

Fiika-

He didn’t want to harm her, no, he was certain that Father was playing his own foul tricks on her, and-

She’d offered him a hand up on that asteroid. Like when they’d killed Father. Like… Thexan.

Arcann studied his hand again.

_ “Arcann!” she cried out, slowly fading away into the stars and beyond. _

Someone cleared their throat from the balcony entrance. “May I, Emperor?”

He clasped his hands behind his back, turning to look over the socialite. It was the same girl that Vaylin had sent to him months ago; the one he’d insulted and been far ruder to than he should’ve been.

She had her hair piled up in curls, a simple mask of dark lace, and a flowing robe that seemed to cling to her frame. Few things were left to his imagination, not that his imagination was going to image those things. Arcann’s imagination was constantly working in the background, without his permission, to bring Fiika to the front of his mind at the worst possible times.

“What do you want?”

The socialite pouted. “The High Justice said you were starting to think of consorts, and came directly to me. She knows we’ve… met.” The way she said it made it sound far more personal than it truly was.

Arcann nearly snorted in laughter. ‘Met’ was a gross exaggeration. If anything, he was more amused with Vaylin’s way of teasing than the socialite’s choice of words. “No.”

“Just until an heir-”

“No,” he repeated forcefully. “I-”

_ An heir. _

He’d never considered actually-

A child, his-

Izak take him, what if he was like Father when it came to the child’s raising-

What if that child was like Father and far too powerful for their own good, and-

The socialite was staring at him, and Arcann realized he’d stopped mid sentence. She couldn’t see the panic that was settling in him, and he was going to keep it that way. So he shifted his stance to pretend to consider her offer. “No.”

“Is there something wrong with me?” she fired back.

Arcann was at loss for words. If he had been expecting any reaction, that was far from it. “What?”

“I’m a beautiful woman, I come from a prominent line of nobility, and I can even do this.” The socialite stared intently at a tray of drinks left out on a table. Intense concentration crossed her face. Slowly, with the Force, the tray lifted a couple inches off the table. “So, Emperor, what’s wrong with me?”

_ You want to know why I don’t find you fascinating like everyone else. _

Arcann slowly approached her. “You are not who I’m looking for.”

“I can be  _ whoever  _ you want, Emperor.” She smiled coyly and gazed at him through her lashes. “I’ll do anything for you.”

“No.” He’d had enough of the gala. Enough of the masks and music and enough of this socialite. “You can’t.”

_ I am your Emperor to you. Not… a person. _

* * *

 

Spook the Sleen was adorable. Of course, being adorable didn’t distract from the fact that Major Jorgan and Kaliyo still hadn’t checked in on the comms.

Pattik found the little creature to be exactly what he needed. A little bit of sunshine to raise his spirits. And he knew Fiika despised the paperwork, but she wouldn’t let him have any of it, so Pattik was left watching the holograms cycle through the Zakuulan comm channels again and again and again and-

It got repetitive. Fast.

He moved to the caf machine, nerves frayed, even if he was trying to hide it.

Senya was tucked up on the couch, various files and holo-communicators scattered across the table. She was being secretive about her work, but had mentioned to Pattik, in confidence, that she was trying to find any Knights who weren’t loyal to Arcann or Vaylin.

He should’ve stuck with Kaliyo, he should’ve stayed on Zakuul after he knew he had the Knight’s full attention for the distraction, he-

Pattik forced himself to stop thinking and took a slow breath.

Dwelling on the past was not a way to fix the future. There was nothing he could do at the moment but support the others.

He took another deep breath, exhaling the worry and seeds of guilt.

Pattik sensed Theron enter, and spoke. “Still no word?”

“No.” the spy’s voice was tight.  “Everything within a kilometer of the Spire has been locked down. No signal gets in or out of that zone.”

Pattik leaned against the counter and studied him.

Theron looked far worse for wear, but there was an improvement from the previous days, when Lana had to drug him to get him to sleep before he drank any more caf. He was calmer, too. Barely, but calmer.

“I could go in.” Fiika joined Theron at the war table, carrying her Sleen like a youngling. “Extract them, and-”

“No.” Theron shook his head. “Not after- no.”

Pattik remained silent. Her idea had merits, but he didn’t think she should be going. Not after her misadventures in the woods.

Fiika gave Theron a sour glare. “Why, because I let a force-ghost get to the better of me? Am I suddenly too delicate to risk on a dangerous mission-”

“Fiika,” Pattik said gently before she’d say something that no one wanted to hear. Her sharp words wouldn’t make anyone feel better. “We just got you back. We don’t want to lose you again. And I doubt your little friend would, either.” He nodded at the Sleen. “Give yourself another day to recover, please.”

“I’m plenty recovered-”

“You were up all night with nightmares,” Senya said from the couch. “I saw you walking around the hangar with your pet at three in the morning.”

If looks could kill, it probably was the only way Fiika could manage to even land a blow on Senya. Her glare was near lethal. “And what were you doing up at three-”

“Focus,” Pattik said. He held up his hands. “Fiika. No extraction. End of story.”

Senya left her work on the table and joined them at the war table, watching the comm channels cycling sadly. “I warned you the GEMINI frequency mission was dangerous.” She shut her eyes. “If they’re alive, it won’t be for much longer.”

“I should go extract them!”

“No,” snapped Theron. “We don’t know enough. Arcann and his knights have had time to prepare their defenses. We’re not risking you on this. We’re…” He looked drained as he continued. “We're not risking anyone.”

“We’re risking Kaliyo,” Senya corrected. 

Theron shrugged, neither confirming nor denying. “I’ll alert everyone the moment I hear anything, but until then… We’re just wasting time here.”

Pattik knew he was right. Just like how he knew that no one was going to stop hovering around the table. Even if any of them were to go work on something else, it would never get done. Their minds would still be focused on Major Jorgan and Kaliyo. “Should I get us some lunch from the the kitchen?”

He had a feeling that they’d be here for a while.

“That’d be great.” Theron raised a finger. “Oh, Fiika, I almost forgot. Hylo Visz asked to see you. She wouldn’t say why, but she also double-checked that you were in the infiltration and deception specialist. And then she said ‘perfect’ when I said yes, so… who knows.”

“Lovely.”

Pattik shook his head. He should be concerned over whatever that smuggler was planning that involved Fiika, but all his concern was currently focused on the GEMINI frequency mission. And he needed to get sandwiches for the war room.

Fiika could handle herself.

She handled three days in the woods with Valkorian.

A smuggler should be a piece of cake.

* * *

 

Fiika had a little box in her room for Spook. It wasn’t anything fancy, really, it was disposable flimsiboard, because she knew he’d outgrow it in a couple weeks. Some stained towels and a lumpy pillow lined it.

She set him in it, kissed him goodnight, and left him alone in the hopes that he’d take a nap.

And then she was off to the hangar to see what Captain Visz wanted.

Fiika had… well, to be completely honest, Fiika had hardly talked to the smuggler. She’d probably interacted with her as often as Sana-Rae: rarely. Not out of dislike or anything mean-spirited, it was just that Fiika’s duties often had her going to Doctor Oggurobb for carbonite poisoning information or helping Admiral Aygo with fleet maneuvers. Smuggling and Force-using were more in Theron and Lana’s departments, respectively.

Captain Visz was standing along the edge of the hanger, one boot on the rocks that lined the drop into the ravine below, the other on a crate. Her hair was fluttering in the exhaust of a transport as it took off, the same ship reflecting sunlight onto her like a spotlight.

_ Now that’s how you look impressive. _

She caught sight of Fiika and hopped down from her perch. “Hey Allos, got a sec?”

“Of course. What’s on your mind?” Fiika followed her towards the lift to the cantina kitchens. It was meant to only be used by kitchen staff when food shipments came in, but, well… they were rather high-ranking Alliance officials. She doubted anyone would write them up for improper use of a bloody lift.

Captain Visz impatiently tucked her bangs behind her ear. “We’re doing our best to keep the supply lines running, but the people I deal with aren’t exactly philanthropists.” She scrunched up her mouth in distaste. “We can’t keep running this thing on goodwill and borrowed credits.”

_ Borrowed credits? _

This was the first she’d heard about that. Fiika flicked the lift doors shut behind her. “Who exactly are we accepting money from?”

“Better if you don’t know, but I’d really prefer to not be living off their kind of debt.” Captain Visz hit the lift button for the kitchens.

_ Not the Cartel, then. Black Sun? White Maw? Twin Suns? Howling Tempest? Red Hull? The Syndicate? The- Bloody hell, I know a lot of gangs. _

Captain Visz continued as the lift slowly started up. “But look, I didn’t just come here with complaints. I know a guy with a habit of showing up when someone’s in need. He’s reached out with an offer we really can’t refuse, much as I might want to.” She met Fiika’s suspicious look. “You should meet him.”

“I take it he’s here already?”

“Yep.”

“And you gave this…  _ loanshark  _ the Alliance coordinates?”

That got a smile out of the captain. “Not loanshark. Just a liar, and a cheat, and a thief.” Captain Visz said it all with pride. “The only thing to trust about him is that he can do what he promises. Hear him out.”

The lift doors opened, assaulting their noses with various stenches of herbs and something very, very burnt.

“C’mon.” Captain Visz motioned for Fiika to follow her through to the cantina.

Fiika weaved through the various cooking droids and volunteer chefs, feeling rather glad that she’d left Spook in her room. He’d have a bloody field day with everything. She spied the burnt  _ thing  _ on one grill. Whatever it had been originally was no longer recognizable underneath a thick layer of charred whatever-it-was. She really didn’t want to know, either.

She and Captain Visz entered the cantina.

At this time of day, it was usually near-empty, and it was.

Lord Beniko and Koth were playing pazaak with someone who’s back was to her. Whoever it was, they were dealing.

Fiika couldn’t hear what they were saying over the jukebox, but she could tell that something had upset Lord Beniko when the cards were revealed. The Sith leapt to her feet, eyes glowing with anger, before she stormed away.

There was an air of static electricity as she passed Fiika. “He cheats,” she warned.

Koth caught Fiika’s gaze and shrugged. He winked as he headed out of the cantina.

Captain Visz and Fiika picked their way through the empty tables.

“Wasted no time turning the card table into a graveyard.” Hylo took Koth’s empty seat.

“It’s my prefered method of execution.”

Fiika rounded the table and studied the Devaronian dealer. One of his horns was broken. His bright face was heavily lined, and there was a slimy intelligence about him, like he was intelligent enough to con a Hutt out of his fortune. It was all in the gleam in his eyes. He looked at everything like he was determining how many credits he could get for it on the black market.

And he was currently appraising Fiika as she sat down.

She kept up a steel cool air of Imperial professionalism, and leveling met his look.

He didn’t back down. Instead he slouched back in his chair and grinned.

“Agent Allos, the most untrustworthy scoundrel I know. Untrustworthy scoundrel, Agent Allos.” Captain Visz motioned at them both, but her gaze was on the Devaronian, watching him sharply.

“She never was big on formalities.” He gave Fiika a sloppy salute. “Gault Rennow, at your service.”

Fiika didn’t like how he was still grinning at her like an excited child in a sweet shop. She got the feeling that he was thinking up too many way to figure out how to get her to spill her secrets so he could blackmail her. 

“How do you two know each other?” If she played up the act of a proper Imperial agent, there was a chance he could underestimate her. She would just have to be on the top of her game. Give him little things to read so he could think he was picking up on something.

“Oh, we go way back,” Gault said offhandedly.

Captain Visz leaned over the table. “I don’t know, it seems like only yesterday that we first met.”

Fiika glanced between the two of them. And then it clicked. They were a thing. A couple. She schooled her face to show nothing. 

Gault seemed to make up his mind about her, and sat upright. “Anyway… we should get onto business. The Eternal Empire’s spent the last five years pillaging every world in the known galaxy. How’d you like to turn all that plundering into a profit for you and your?”

She kept her expression chilly. “I’m listening.”

“I happen to know where they’re keeping all that ill-gotten gain. Better yet, I’ve got a sure-fire plan to steal it right out from under Arcann’s nose.” He moved his hands when he spoke, completely at ease. A damn good conman. “I just need the help from a few talented, tough customers to see it through.” He was giving Fiika an innocent, begging look that certainly didn’t suit him.

She glanced over at Captain Visz. “I  _ am  _ the Infiltration and Deception specialist.”

The smuggler nodded.

Gault plowed on. “Ever heard of the Gilded Star? I’ll stop you there, you haven’t.”

Wasn’t it a strip club on Kaas?

“It’s one of the Eternal Empire’s most tightly guarded secrets. A floating treasury circling the depths of a massive gas giant. The ship and the buried treasure a wrapped up into one neat little package. Well…” Gault considered his words. “Maybe not so little. By my estimation, its the biggest sum of wealth gathered in one place since the Hutt Empire was a thing. So.” He pointed directly at Fiika. “You in?”

She stayed silent, waiting him out and pretending to think over his words. Fiika was already on board. If she stayed on Odessen with only paperwork to do while Major Jorgan and Kaliyo were out of contact, she’d go mad. She needed to keep busy.

Captain Visz looked over at her after a beat, surprised at Fiika’s lack of answer.

“Alright. I’m in.”

The pair of outlaws looked relieved.

Gault played it off by slouching down in his seat again. “I hoped you’d feel that way. When you’re ready to get this show on the road, we’ll be heading to the Vandin system to lay some ground work.” He gave her a cheesy wink. “Looking forward to this, partner.”

* * *

 

The entire Vandin system, according to her datapad, was a hive of gas mining and small-time pirate gangs. The system was smack center in the Eternal Empire, but was widely used by anyone desperate enough to stop there for fuel. Or spice.

Spook nosed her hand, looking for food.

“Sorry, darling, but Mummy’s got a mission.” Fiika opened up her holomail and send a message to Theron, detailing Spook’s care, and explaining that she’d be gone for a couple days on a mission for Captain Visz.

Spook, realizing he wasn’t going to get fed, leapt off couch and busied himself with tearing apart one of the toys in his box.

She tapped her fingers on the couch cushion, thinking.

_ I’m going to need a disguise. _

Fiika looked over at the pile of storage crates still stacked, now neatly, in the corner. She knew exactly what disguise she needed, it was just the problem of finding it.

She groaned and heaved herself off the couch. With her luck, it’d be at the bottom of the last box she went through.

* * *

 

Gault prided himself on thinking fast on his feet. And thinking through nearly every way a situation could go.

But Hylo had made Agent Allos sound like…

Well, not some stiff-lipped Imp agent. Well, even if that was an act, Gault was already thinking up alternatives to having her along as his right-hand man on this con. He needed the best of the best, and he still wasn’t sold yet on Allos.

He caught Hylo eyeing him. “You need something?”

Her grin told him exactly what she had in mind. “We can go check out the ship. Make sure it’s perfect.”

“I like the way you think.”

* * *

 

She zipped up the tight... Girdle was not the right word. Corset was not the right word. There really wasn’t a word that Fiika had ever come to terms with using on the garment while having that particular word still be accurate.

Her preferred term was ‘waist vest’, except that the garment was in no shape or form a bloody vest. It looked like a back-support belt with pockets on the front. And a deep pink. The only problem was that it did not, in fact, provide any back support, and the suspenders on it were more for aesthetics than holding it in place.

Fiika adjusted it one last time, and turned to her make-up.

Half of being a pirate was looking like a pirate. 

* * *

 

Koth kept an eye on the ship docked in the hangar. A very impressed eye.

Captain Visz’s personal starship was a beauty.

He was still learning outlander models of ships, but whatever this model was… Koth deeply appreciated the sleek lines and twin engines. The ship sat low in the hangar, to the point where he would’ve had to duck his head if he went on. Even the landing gear was built for speed. At the edges of the wings were streamlines defense cannons.

Koth discretely walked around the starship, admiring it from every view.

The defensive cannons could rotate.

He let out a low whistle, impressed. He’d kill to fly this masterpiece. Or just touch it. See the engines up close, read the repair manual...

“Admiring the view?”

Koth glanced up to see Captain Visz standing atop the hull, smirking. “You’ve got one hell of a ship.”

“I know.” She swung down off the top of the ship and ducked inside.

He shook his head and turned back to the Gravestone- His crew was all standing around, looking at the starship in awe. Len looked thirty seconds away from drooling. “HEY!” Koth roared. “Get back to the Gravestone, you mangy wooluks! She’s not going to fix herself!”

The crew slowly started towards the lifts to the Gravestone. They kept looking over their shoulders at the sleeker ship.

Koth couldn’t blame them. The Gravestone was the ship of legends, but it was also a lumbering beast of a ship. This little starship was built for speed and stealth.

He look one last, long look at Captain Visz’s ship before he joined his crew.

* * *

 

Fiika tossed her pack down on the floor of the ship and nodded to Senya. She ignored SCORPIO. That cursed droid had been patronizing far too much for Fiika to let slide.

Gault came in from the cockpit and did a double take at her. “Allos?”

“Yes.” She crossed her arms. “Something the matter?”

He had a mildly devious look on his face, like Life-Day had come early and he was going to steal presents. “No, no, everything’s ship-shape.”

Fiika didn’t quite believe him. She sat down next to Senya as the ship took off.

At the Knight’s feet was a small travel pack. The Knight herself wasn’t in her usual armor, instead she was in what she’d worn to Zakuul to recruit SCORPIO. Long poncho, casual boots, pants with pockets hidden along the seams but marked with golden threat. The poncho hid her lightsaber, but it didn’t hide the grace of a warrior.

Senya still had her strict bun.

Fiika had the theory that Senya never actually took out her bun. Her hair just simply grew that way because any other way out of fear for the Knight’s displeasure.

“Is that what Outlander pirates wear?”

“It’s what I wear when I’m a pirate.” Fiika shoved her pack under her seat. “Is that what Zakuulan pirates wear?”

“It’s what I wear when I don’t want it known that I’m a Knight.” Senya settled back into her seat, closing her eyes. “It’s a long trip to the Vandin system. I suggest getting some sleep while you can.”

* * *

 

Pattik couldn’t sleep.

He’d tried. Repeatedly. And in various different positions. Sitting up in bed, lying on his back, lying on his side, his other side, his belly, dangling his feet over the edge. He’d even gone to the med-bay to get a sleep stim and, halfway there, decided against it.

It wasn’t because he’d had too much caf or had ended up dozing off while meditating earlier.

It was because of Major Jorgan and Kaliyo.

Pattik briefly entertained the thoughts of what would’ve happened if he’d insisted on staying with Kaliyo on Zakuul.

He could be with them in relay station, maybe they’d even already be safe and off Zakuul-

_ Don’t dwell on the could-have-beens. _

He sighed and turned around, deciding to find something to distract himself with.

But-

The Force was pulling him outside.

He followed his sense out to the observatory towers, curious. Scouts, probably as tired as they looks, nodded at him. Pattik could sense the Force above the deck, atop the base itself, at one of his favorite meditation spots.

The lift up was smooth and fast.

And atop the base, glowing in the starlight and standing on the durasteel, was a Force Ghost.

Not Valkorian.

Pattik knew that wiry frame, the cowlick that stood up no matter what either of them did to it. The artistic swirls on his lightsaber looked perfect as always.

“Ryun.”

The ghost turned around, grinning. “Master.” He waved him over. “You got old.”

“You-” Pattik cut himself off. ‘Didn’t’ hovered on his tongue. He couldn’t say it. Yes, it’d been over five years since Arcann and his brother took Korriban, but five of those years were spent in carbonite. It wasn’t five years for him. It was… It wasn’t even a years. Months. Many months, sure, but the pain was still fresh.

Ryun’s ghost was still smiling. “Yeah. Me. So what’s new, Master?”

_ A boy, barely older than eleven, climbing up a steep mountainside path. His tunic was dark with sweat and covered in dirt. He fell over onto his back next to Pattik and tried to catch his breath. “What’s new… Master?” _

_ Pattik stared silently at him, waiting for the boy to explain why he was interrupting a Knight’s meditation. _

_ “I’m Ryun.” The miralian waved at him from the ground. “I’d like to be your padawan.” _

_ “That’s not up to you. That’s up to me and the Council.” _

_ Ryun finally sat up. “Is that a no? Because I really hope it’s not because I don’t want to climb back down that path. My legs feel like jelly.” _

_ Pattik didn’t mention that his own legs were sore from the hike up. “You can stay. But not as my padawan. And meditate on your path to here.” _

_ “Sure, Master.” _

“Master?”

Pattik pulled himself out of the memory. “Hm?”

“You okay? When I said you were old, I meant that you looked it.” Ryun gestured at his own spectral face. “Not, like… mentally. You’re still in there, right?” He tapped Pattik’s forehead. “All in there?”

“Yes, I was just thinking.” Pattik and looked out over Odessen. Treetops were faint in the moonlight. 

A tiny bit of guilt wormed its way into his mind. He’d suggested the recon mission to Korriban while the Zakuulan forces were invading. The Jedi needed to see who were defeated Sith so fast. He’d insisted, lest the invaders turn to Tython.

He’d asked Ryun to go. He had passed the Trials. He was a Knight.

He’d agreed. Master and apprentice, paired together again. But Pattik had left him for a moment to try to save another Jedi.

Only to sense Ryun be slaughtered by Arcann. Cut in half. Like a slab of meat-

“It’s not your fault.”

Pattik looked over sharply.

Ryun’s perpetual smile was gone. For beat, he didn’t look like the carefree padawan Pattik had trained. His eyes hardened, his chin raised. He looked like an unbreachable wall who’d weather any storm.

He looked like a Jedi.

And then he wrinkled his nose and shrugged. “Like, it’s not completely your fault, Master. I didn’t have to say yes and go. You didn’t have to make my your padawan, like, so many years ago. And the Force likes to fuck with us sometimes.”

“Language,” Pattik corrected automatically.

They stared at each other before Ryun burst out laughing. Pattik cracked his own smile.

“I’m dead and you’re still trying to tell me that Jedi don’t swear. Force, old habits never die.” Ryun shook his head.

“Why are you here?”

“Stop worrying.” Ryun stuck his hands on his hips, smile soft. “You can’t change what’s already happened. You can’t go and save Jorgan or Kaliyo. You can’t change that. So stop worrying. You can only change the future.”

With that, he bowed and slowly faded away.

A breeze tickled the back of Pattik’s neck.

“Thank you, apprentice.”

* * *

 

“There she is: Vandin.”

Gault had made the planet sound like a sparkling, shimmering gas giant made up of brilliant colors that glittered like jewels.  Fiika got the sense he was exaggerating, and that exaggerating was just part of who he was, but she was still expecting something remotely decent of a planet.

Vandin was not.

Vandin was definitely, utterly, completely… not.

Fiika stared out of the viewports at the thick smog. It was an unfortunate green color reminiscent of what one would find in a baby’s diaper; and if she had to hazard a guess, it probably didn’t smell much better, either. Lightning crackled in the distance. Occasionally a mining tower would loom out of the fog, or a small cloud skimmer stocked full of fuel canisters. 

Another flash of lightning silhouetted a Fleet ship at a fueling platform.

Fiika held her breath until they  passed a tower with antennas sticking out haphazardly at every angle imaginable.

_ Bet they’ve got every holonet channel.  _

Captain Visz set the ship down on a grimy landing pad. Fuel pipelines snaked around, some dangling over the edge and disappearing into the clouds below.

“Leave that, someone’ll get it.” Gault draped an arm over Fiika’s shoulders and steered her down the ramp. “Mind the ledges when you’re walking around, unless you fancy a death by scenic view.”

Fiika felt liker her insides had curdled. The smog- it stank worse than it looked. It was like breathing in fumes straight from an exhaust port. With vinegar.  “This is what you call a scenic view?”

He waved his hand towards the small spaceport. “Look at it. So many credits just looking for me to come and get ‘em.”

“The Gilded Star?”

“It’s out there, somewhere, swimming below sight and scan range. Something about the magnetism here plays havoc with sensors.” He put more of his weight on the arm around Fiika. “And cheap fillings.”

They passed a pair of swoop bikes. Pirates sat around them; some on the bikes, others on crates. The gang insignia and colors weren’t any Fiika knew from Rishii. They had skull tattoos ghosted on their faces with… she hoped it was paint and not a tattoo. Tattoos meant eep dedication and a lack of rational thought. The colors weren’t enough for the skulls to be obvious at the first glance, but enough to unnerve the averagely-nerved spacer. They were just lackeys. Watching the docks for easy prey.

Miners scuttled around them like the pirates had some sort of contagious disease.

Gault didn’t seem to realize that they’d caught the attention of the pirates. “Bottom line is, we’ll never find the Gilded Star out there, which is all the more reason to get our preparations underway- Hi, can I help you? Gault Rennow, accountant extraordinaire.” He held out a hand to the pirates that’d blocked the road off.

The pirate lackey in charge spat at him. “Credits. Toll payment to get through.”

“Oh, a fellow entrepreneur. Well, I don’t want to upset any locals. What’s the toll?”

Fiika stayed silent, letting the conman handle the situation. She was counting how many gang members were forming a circle around them. Even though she couldn’t see behind her, there were four in front of them, and that left-

Well, counting was her plan, until the pirate named an outrageous figure and then proceeded to oh-so-casually rest his hand on a heavy vibroblade.

Gault was thrown off his game with such a large number. “You’re kid-”

“Here.” Fiika drew one of her modified twin scatterguns and aimed it at the pirate’s privates. “How about you don’t fuck with the Nova Blades, and that way, you can keep fuckin’. Deal?” She turned off the safety. It seemed to echo along the suddenly-silent street. “Or do you really want me to pull this trigger?”

The pirates traded looks, reconsidered, and backed away.

Gault was eyeing her, impressed. “Nice Republic accent. I never would’ve pegged you for Imp-”

Fiika turned the scattergun on him. “Give me back my credits you stole. Don’t think I didn’t know that was why you were gettin’ so close.”

His grin showed off his dangerously sharp molars. “So nothing gets past you, huh?”

“And the kolto vials.”

* * *

 

Vaylin cracked open an eye and watched one of the upper windows of the Spire.

Sat sat slightly to the left of the middle of her favorite sparring arena. If she sat in the middle, she didn’t have a view of Arcann’s room. And she wouldn’t be in a particularly warm patch of sunlight.

She had her sleeves rolled up, tattoos in the sunlight, as she thought.

They weren’t very pleasant thoughts. No, Vaylin’s thoughts could be summed up as conniving. Conniving little thoughts on how to keep her brother from doing something irrevocably foolish, like become too interested in that outlander pilot girl. 

Her fingers dug into her skin as her mind ran off with what could happen if he did let that outlander get too close.

_ Arcann could stop this war, he’d make peace with the Alliance, and that outlander and him would fall in love and I would be left behind, not important to him- _

_ Just another fragment of Father’s reign- _

_ He’d leave me and I’d be alone- _

_ No. I won’t be alone. _

Pain flashed up her arms.

Vaylin let of herself and sneered at her elbows. Her nails had punctured the skin.

She released a deep breath.

All Arcann needed was her to keep him from indulging in the weaknesses in him that Father almost stamped out.

All Arcann needed was her to help him and keep Zakuul under his rule.

All he needed was his sister.

Not some outlander.

* * *

 

“Hey, do you know why they’re cutting everybody’s hours down this week?”

“Ssshhh. Keep it down, yeah? It’s a security thing, happens every few weeks. They don’t like people asking, so don’t ask, yeah?

“Nobody said anything when I signed on. Blast it, I knew I should’ve taken that Ilum job. Minos-Mestra wouldn’t jerk their crews around like this-”

Fiika pushed through the bickering miners, following Gault from a couple hundred feet behind him.

He insisted they split up for ‘safety reasons’ after the pirate incident. Because she drew attention to them. Gault’s definition of drawing attention, apparently, was that she ‘was quite a looker’.

She’d decided to not ask any more questions. If Gault’s definition of keeping a low profile was keeping his distance from her, then that was perfectly fine. Fiika still hadn’t completely forgiven him for stealing her kolto and credits.

The smog stained everything yellow. The walls, the lights, the nasty puddles of crude fuel in the middle of walkways. It wasn’t just yellow, though, it was the specific shade of yellow usually reserved for stomach bile.

And the air didn’t smell much better.

Someone whistled at her off to her right. “Hey mama, we don’t get your kind here-”

Fiika ignored the voice and headed for Gault. He’d disappeared around the last warehouse on the upper deck.

He was waiting for her. “This is the place.”

They slipped into the warehouse.

And were greeted with stacks and stacks of cargo shipments. Big ones, medium, a scattering of itty bitty little ones.

Fiika rested her hands on her scattergun grips, frowning. She’d been expecting someone here.

“Ah, that container over there.” Gault pointed at a muddy red one that looked like all the other muddy red ones.

They started across the warehouse, footsteps echoing.

Gault cleared his throat. “So, this plan I mentioned? It’s going to take the best identity forger this side of the galaxy to pull off.” He stopped twenty feet away from the shipping container. “Problem is, he’s been in hiding- specifically in that-” He nodded at the container. “For a long time. He probably won’t be too thrilled to have visitors. Especially not visitors who had his safehouse shipped a few thousand parsecs unannounced.” Gault resumed walking towards the container. “Be on your toes,” he warned.

Fiika open and shut her mouth, looking for words while she processed everything he’d just said. “So you kidnapped him?”

The grin he flashed was anything but humorous. “It’s more like a change of address.”

She shook her head and studied the warehouse again. If she’d been shipped across the galaxy, she’d be in a right fit and ready to tear everyone a new one. And if she had the time and leisure of waiting for someone to come pick her up, there would be ample opportunity to set up a trap.

Fiika primed both her scatterguns and joined Gault at the access panel.

He knocked out a jaunty beat on the door.

Someone cussed inside.

“Dretcher, is it?” Gault smiled at the little camera. “They always say retirement’s a good time to travel. Why don’t you come check out the scenery?”

“Tyresiusssss,” hissed the so-called Dretcher. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, ssshowing your ugly mug to me again.”

Fiika glanced at Gault. “Tyresius?”

Gault spoke quietly enough that there was no possible way for Dretcher to overhear through a wall of durasteel. Fiika could barely hear his whisper standing next to him. “Just a name I carried around for a little while, no use to anybody now.” He turned back to the shipping container, voice just as loud and greasy as it had been moments ago. “I think you’ve got me confused with someone else, friend. Name’s Gault Rennow. Got a business proposition I think you’ll want to hear about-”

“You can’t play dumb with me, Ty. I know that faccce better than you do.”

Fiika was curious, often when she got curious, she asked questions that she usually had no business asking. She leaned in closer to the access panel mic, making sure to keep her Republic accent up. “What d’you mean?”

Dretcher’s laugh was wheeze. “He’s ssssseen a lot of my work. I even made him a perfect duplicate… Better than perfect! My version didn’t talk.” There was a pause. “I’ve had enough helping that fraud fake his own death. Thisssss time it’ssss going to ssssstick. A little gift for your hossspitality. You can mail order just about anything these daysss.”

Gault sighed. “Well, this should be fun.”

Fiika swore as the little bitty shipping crates clicked as they were unlocked. Whatever Dretcher had mail ordered was probably not going to be pleasant. She climbed up a shipping container. Any high ground would be an advantage to see what they were up against.

Droids.

High caliber bodyguard droids, the sort with the eye sockets set on spinning wheels so it was impossible to sneak up on them.

_ Bloody hell, Gault, he’d got a grudge the size of a moon. _

Fiika primed a smoke grenade and slung it towards the biggest collection of droids. It’d keep them from firing for a bit, at least.

Gault was crouched behind a storage crate, attempting to snipe the droids. Attempting was the kindest way of putting it. Every time he looked up to shoot, the droids bombarded the crate with fire.

She ran along the shipping container and leapt to the next one, working her way around to get behind the droids. Gault was their main target, and-

“Emperor’s underwear.”

They’d seen her and started firing.

Fiika cursed, jumped down from the shipping container, and roared at the pain in her knees as her legs protested that particular move. She fired point-blank with her scatter guns.

The bodyguard droids didn’t know what hit them.

She tore through them, blasting the head off one and them hauling it beside her like screeching shield.

A bolt hit her between her neck and shoulder.

Fiika dropped the droid and bit down on her lip to keep from screaming. Blood tainted her mouth. She’d reopened a scar.

“Ah-ha!” Gault took out the offending droid who’d shot her, then yelped as the droids distracted with the smoke grenade finally started shooting. “Um, Allos, this is where you say you’re secretly a Sith, right?”

She shoved her scatterguns into their holsters and drew her daggers. “Not bloody likely.” Fiika threw both  daggers overhand, sprinting after them. She tugged one out of the fallen droid it’d taken down, ducking under a vibrosword, booting one droid into another in the process.

These droids were good, but they weren’t Black Skytrooper good. They didn’t have advanced tactics programed into them, nor a higher-functioning droid brain. It was point-and-shoot for them.

Fiika weaved around them, dancing around blaster fire and drawing another knife. One was still buried in the head of droid that couldn’t see her, but was still trying to fire in her general direction.

She carved through them, slicing at exposed wires or just shoving a blade between armor.

Then one got a hand on her neck.

_ Valkorian, his grip tightening on her throat, the rain running into her eyes, his eyes still bright as her vision dimmed- _

Fiika felt the daggers slip from her fingers.

The droid was the last one standing, and it seem particularly surprised that it’d caught her.

It was that split second of the droid pausing that she needed. Fiika fumbled a grenade off her belt, not caring what kind it was, and shoved it between the front armor plates.

The droid didn’t like that. It didn’t like it one bit. It released her and panicked, trying to reach into itself to get the grenade.

Fiika took cover behind a storage crate and waited for the boom.

Nothing.

“That was a dud,” Gault yelled.

She primed a scatter gun, ready to-

The grenade went off.

She returned to Gault by Dretcher’s container.

“Hey, you okay?” Gault pointed at her shoulder. “Not going to die on us, right?”

“It’s a flesh wound.” Fiika stuck her primed scattergun to the control panel of the shipping container, letting her Republic accent drop on purpose and making her natural one as threatening as possible. “If you don’t open this blasted door, I will personally feed you the barrel of this-”

“Oh, come on! That’ssss not how thisss was ssssuposssed to go!”

Dretcher was having a little frustrated hissy fit from the sounds of it.

Gault gently shoved her scattergun away from the access panel, looking unkindly at the camera. “Still can’t roll with the grudges. You perfectionist types never learn- there’s no such thing as a ‘sure’ thing.”

Fiika was still holding her scattergun, too irritated and shaken from the memory to put it away. “Why are we trying to recruit someone who wants to kill you?”

“He’s the one with the grudge!” Dretcher snapped. “After I made that body double he went and sssswindled half of Nar Shadda. In my name!”

Gault dropped his suave smile for a beat. “Because Dretcher is literally the only one I trust to pull this off.

“It’s taken everything I know to ssstay hidden in thisss little prison. Every time I start to think I can leave,  _ sssomeone  _ sssnitches on my new identities.”

Fiika’s flat glare had Gault talking fast.

“So maybe I encouraged his early retirement. This little box is cozier than a coffin, and a better place to reflect on how stupid trying to blackmail me was?” He’d gone from talking to her to growling into the microphone. “But hey.” Gault’s charm was back in tenfold. “Ancient history, am I right? I’m more than willing to forget about our past disagreements, if you do one more job for me.”

“Like I’d ever help you again.”

Gault shot her a look. “Your turn.”

“He’s your contact.”

“Allos. C’mon. You’re reasonable.”

Fiika swallowed the bad taste in her mouth and plastered a sympathetic look on her face. Her shoulder had a distinctive throb to it, and she wanted someone to take a look at it. Preferably Senya, because the Knight knew how to look at wounds. And wouldn’t Force-heal her unless she asked for it.

She kept her mild irritation out of her voice. “I can’t image you want things to continue as they are. You can get your life back.” She flicked her eyes to Gault. “With interest.”

“More credits that I’ve made in my entire career, Dretch. You know that’s nothing to scoff at.”

The shipping container hissed as it opened, revealing an Anomid with an outdated vocoder mask and clothes that had probably been last washed before Fiika went into carbonite. The stains were better probably left a mystery.

“Fine,” he hissed. “I’ll do the sssstupid job.”

Gault discreetly fanned the smell away from his nose. “Sit tight, Dretch, and get reacquainted with the concept of hygiene.” He tossed him a datacard. “That’s the basics.”

Dretch frowned at him and, there was no other word for it,  _ slunk _ out of sight towards the back door of the warehouse.

Fiika holstered her scattergun. “So now-”

“We’ve got one last step to make before we get to the fun part.” Gault clapped her on her shoulder. Specifically, her wounded shoulder.

“Ouch,” Fiika said with absolutely no inflection.

“Ah, my bad, my bad. Are you okay? Of course you are. Might try ducking next time.” He glanced down. “Use one of those kolto vials on your belt on our way to the last stop.”

“Those aren’t for-” She decided against explaining the carbonite poisoning cold flashes. “Just don’t touch my shoulder, or I’ll feed you your fingers.”

Gault grinned. “Nothing like an Imperial threat to keep you on your toes.”

“I can arrange for you to be fed those as well.”

* * *

 

Lana was quiet beside him. She was prodding a bowl of soggy cereal halfheartedly, tapping her fingers on the counter. The cybernetic fingers clicked whenever they landed. 

Tap tap click click. 

Durasteel against durasteel.

Click.

Theron cleared his throat loudly. “Lana.”

“Not now, Theron,” she sighed.

He debated with himself on whether to confront her now or later. Later would just prolong the awkwardness, but then they could also pretend everything was okay... Nope, he was going to do it now. Like ripping a bandage off. It’d sting like hell, but they’d all be better off.

He also was not the most patient man.

“Stop blaming yourself.”

Slowly she turned to face him, eyes bright and warning Theron that he was playing a particularly dangerous game. “I’m not.”

“The first sign is always denial.” 

Lana stayed silent and still.

_ Like a cornered predator- Oh, no no no, bad thought, bad comparison, don’t think that. _

Theron cleared his throat, refusing to look away from her intense gaze. “You blame yourself for Fiika going missing, don’t you?”

She glanced around the cantina bar, then let out a tight whisper. “No.”

He leaned in close under the pretense of propping his head up with his fist. If anyone glanced at them, they’d see Lana and a half-asleep Theron. The usual. “Lana,” he said softly.

“I am not having this conversation right now.” The Sith slid off her stool and thundered out of the cantina.

Theron ran after her. What else was he supposed to do?

A breeze, cooler than usual and signalling the beginning of a change in seasons, hit him full in the face.

Lana was in one of the bubble-like observation towers, storming across the catwalks to get as far away from the base as physically possible. Her hair whipped around her head like a halo; her robes fluttering in the wind.

Catching up to her was easy.

She was shorter, and had short legs. Theron was all leg.

“Lana,” he repeated. “I know.”

“Do you really?” There was a sharp edge to her voice. “I told her to talk to Valkorian. I told her to go and get information out of the spirit that’s got her mind captive and decimated Ziost. I knew she hated him. And I asked her anyway.” She was staring hard at her half-cybernetic hand. “I- I think I lost her again.”

Again.

Theron grabbing the railing and looked as far down into the ravine as he could. He knew Lana wasn’t going to look. She was scared of heights, not that she’d admit it. The fact that she’d come out to the catwalks to talk said something of how vulnerable she felt. Not that she’d admit that, either.

Again.

That word was stuck in his head. They’d lost Fiika five years ago on Marr’s ship. Now Lana feared that she’d lost her again, but this time their friendship.

“Theron.” Her voice was whisked away by the wind.

“I told her to take time off and go back to the Navy.” He could almost see the glimmer of a river at the bottom of the ravine. “If I hadn’t said that… Would she have tried to infiltrate Zakuul during the war and been killed as an agent? Or… would she still be here with us and have been with us for those five years? I suggested it, and look where it got her.”

Lana leaned against the railing, staring at the base. “That’s not your fault.”

“She listened.”

“Fiika does that. We were- well,  _ I  _ was her boss. You… you had more experience than her, even if she bothered you about whatever training either of you had. We’re more like equals now, all of us, but she still sees us as…”

Theron understood her meaning. “So you’re saying it’s not my fault that she listened to me?”

Lana sighed. “Of course not, you loon.”

It was time to take away that guilt. Theron looked over at her, and- he paused, then gently rested his hand atop her’s. “Then it’s also not your fault that she got lost.”

“Theron-” She looked over sharply at him.

“It was Fiika’s choice to go talk to Valkorian. Like how it was Fiika’s choice to go back to the Navy after Ziost. Yeah, I know, you asked her to do something she’d hate. But she doesn’t hate you. You’re not Valkorian.”

Lana was gazing at him, eyes a little too wide with anxious worry. “But I still-”

“She’s going to forgive you. She’s Fiika.” It was time to change the topic. “You know what she named the Sleen?”

“What?”

“Spook.”

“Oh no,” Lana groaned. “She did that on purpose, didn’t she?”

“Yeah.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “You okay?”

She looked more relaxed when he asked, blonde hair dancing in the wind, the intensity fading from her eyes. “I will be.” Lana looked down at their hands. “Thank you, Theron.”

“Always.” It felt too heavy, too emotional, and Theron was afraid that he’d let something slip or do something that he probably shouldn’t. He had to lighten the mood. “Someone’s got to keep score on who’s the better spy.”

“It’s a tie. It will  _ always  _ be a tie.”

* * *

 

She discreetly injected herself with kolto to ward off a cold attack.

It wasn’t so much that she didn’t want Gault to see or know, it- well, it was exactly that. The damned Devaronian was too nosy and slick for his own good, and Fiika was alright with letting him steal genades from her pockets. She could just steal them back later.

She was more guarded with her kolto. If she needed it and he’d stolen it…

Maiming Captain Visz’s boyfriend or whatever-he-was was not going to help the mission, or endear her to the smuggler.

Gault led the way into a private hangar.

Fiika nearly balked.

Nearly.

Her training kept her from stopping in her tracks and staring at what looked decisively like a short-range missile.

Scattered around the hangar were Niktos and a monkey-lizard, all standing around upturned crates and a portable jukebox. A pair of Niktos were boxing inside a ring drawn in the dirt.

The monkey-lizard stopped it’s cackling and leered at her as she passed it. That got the boxers to stop boxing and look at her, then the Niktos who were watching the boxers turned to see that had captured their attention-

Fiika felt everyone’s eyes on her and Gault.

“Punctual, gentlemen. Glad you could make it all this way.” Gault grinned up at the missile like it was a  Life-Day present trussed up in ribbons. “No trouble acquiring my little request, I take?”

_ That’s as little as a battlecruiser’s turning radius. _

Fiika stuck her thumbs through her belt loops and looked down her nose at the Nikto pirates. She made it obvious that she was Gault’s backup, and that she was far from impressed with their gear.

One of the boxing Niktos had wandering eyes.

She popped the holster on one her scatterguns. A warning.

That particular Nikto looked away and gave Gault his full focus. “Hmph.” He approached them, pulling on his coat. It was far nicer than anything else the others were wearing. If Fiika was the pirate she was pretending to be, she’d bet that he was the captain. And if she was her usual non-pirate self, she’d still bet that he was the captain. “It’s here. You got our money?”

Gault’s little smile over at her had Fiika letting out a deep, long-suffering sigh internally. Externally, she kept her expression neutral.

He was going to try and wriggle out of paying them.

_ A warning would’ve been lovely,  _ **_Arsehole_ ** _. _

His smile turned full-size, but what it gained in facial real-estate, it lost in reassurance. “Of course, friend, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t ask to see the goods first.”

If there ever was a perfect example of what not to do when conning someone, Gault would be it, Fiika decided.

She followed Gault as he and the Nikto captain went to inspect the missile, popping her other holster for the eventual firefight that would break out when he’d refuse to pay them. Fiika was getting rather irritated with every place they’d gone to result in them walking into a shootout situation that was purely a result of Gault being slimier that a Hutt.

“What could we possibly need a missile for?” Fiika hissed at Gault.

“Just the important part, really.”

“I think you need to tell me more about this bloody plan,  _ really _ .”

He moved to pat her shoulder, seemed to remember her threat regarding his fingers, and lowered his hand. “We’re getting to that part just as soon as we’re finished here.”

The Nikto captain cleared his throat and thumped his hand on the missile. “Satisfied?” At Gault’s altogether-too-cheerful nod, he crossed his arms. “You got our money?”

_ And here we go. _

“About that…” Gault trailed off, plastering on a smile worthy of a used speeder salesman who was trying to get rid of a hunk of junk. “I was hoping we should re-negotiate the price, seeing as I don’t need the whole missile.”

The moment he’d said ‘re-negotiate’, the Nikto captain had signaled the rest of the gang.

Fiika did not exactly enjoy having that amount of blasters aimed at her when she was lacking blaster-proof armor.

Gault wasn’t oblivious to the weapons drawn on them. “I thought you might feel that way.” He raised a dead man's switch and pressed it.

Lights on the missile’s control panel lit up. “Launch sequence initiated,” announced a rather optimistic voice. “Target acquired. Total atomic dispersal in T-minus one minute.”

_ Total atomic dispersal? What happened to missiles while I was frozen? _

“You- You son of a bitch!” The Nikto captain pointed a snub-nosed blaster point-blank at Gault’s forehead. “Make it stop!”

“Nah.”

Fiika looked back at the gang and flashed a dangerous grin. “I do hope you’re all good runners.”

Gault pointed to the edge of the private hanger. A pitiful railing protected anyone from accidentally falling over the edge. “Jumping might be faster.”

“T-minus fifty-five seconds,” declared the missile. “Warhead primed. Suffering index set to maximum.”

_ What kind of blasted missile is this? _

It was like one of the practice missiles in Intelligence’s bomb training. One of the missiles was supposedly real, and each missile different wiring and sayings. Some only spoke in Huttese, others flashed lights in a sequenced code.

No one ever exploded on the first or second day, but this missile… it didn’t sound like a proper missile. Something was off about it.

The Nikto captain started backpedaling towards the hangar door. “You’ll pay for this!”

Gault waited until the gang had thrown the blast door shut behind them before he took his thumb off the trigger. “Suckers.”

The little flashing red light on the control panel didn’t stop flickering. “Abort sequence aborted. No stopping me now.”

_ This isn’t a real missile. _

Fiika didn’t share that comforting thought as the adrenaline slowly wore off. Gault had got them into an ambush, and nearly into another shootout with a pirate gang. He could panic for a moment over the missile blowing them both to dust.

She didn’t appreciate the way the missile reminded her of training.

Gault wasn’t yet at a panicked disposition, but there was a slight edge to his voice as he pressed the switch over and over. “What’d she do to this thing? C’mon, c’mon… It’s not responding!”

Fiika played with the end of her braid. “Are there any wires you can cut?”

His glare would have been far more threatening if Fiika had never been on the receiving end of one of Lord Beniko’s. “Oh, sure, dozens,” he snapped scathingly. “Got any ideas which ones?”

She shrugged.

“Tampering detected. Emergency detonation in five seconds. Nice try, jerks.”

Gault was in full terror mode while trying to hang on to the last shreds of his logic. “I can’t tell if she-”

“Three!”

“-did a terrible job rewiring or too good a one.”

“Two.”

He leapt over a crate and hunkered down behind it as if it could protect him from an entire missile blast.

“One!”

The fuel hatch at the back burst open and a blue Twi’lek burst out. “KABOOM!” She broke into peals of laughter upon seeing Gault poking his head over the crate. “Oh, that was great!”

“Ha. Ha.” Gault gave her a one-finger salute.

The girl braced herself against the missile as she forced herself to stop laughing. “C’mon, that was pretty good, admit it.”

As much as Fiika enjoyed seeing Gault squirm, if this Twi’lek ever pulled something like this on her, Fiika would be far less forgiving that Gault. She crossed her arms. “I really don’t like your sense of humor.”

“Lighten up, you’ll get wrinkles like him.” The girl’s remaining giggles disappeared to be replaced with distaste. She gave Fiika a once-over and seemed less than impressed.

Gault rounded the crate and joined them. “Allos, allow me to introduce you to my partner, Vette. She has a habit of getting where she’s not wanted. Like on your nerves, for instance. Vette, Agent Allos, Impy spy that Hylo told us about.”

“Imperial, huh?” Vette’s look of distaste deepened. “Pardon if I don’t bow.”

There were far too many things that the Empire had done to the galaxy for Fiika to know what exactly Vette held against it, but if it was going to get in the way of the mission, then Fiika would have a very short conversation with her.

Gault didn’t pick up the atmosphere between them, or if he did, he hid it. “Did you get the warhead, or were you too busy practising your lines?”

“Yeah, I got it, Mr. Grumpy Pants.” Vette climbed back into the missile. Her voice echoed out. “Though I guess those lizard-brains will have figured out nothing’s exploded by now.” She slid out of the fuel hatch, cradling a glowing yellow cube to her chest. “I’ll see if I can’t distract them.”

Gault nodded and gestured towards the door, looking at Fiika. “Time to make ourselves scarce.”

Vette waved them off, eyes not matching the smile on her face as she stared at Fiika. “Toodles!”

* * *

 

Senya paced the tiny room. She wanted to look for cleaning supplies, but she didn’t dare go through the cabinets. It wasn’t her apartment, and her manners overrode her dislike of the grimy surroundings.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t used to dirty sinks or dust built up in the corners, it… it just bothered her. She liked things organized. They had to be when the twins were born.

It was her idea to have them dressed in different colors. The fashion designers had made little matching outfits for the boys, but she knew that Valkorian and her would get them mixed up, so she’d asked specifically for them to not be identical in clothing.

She could see them in her mind.

_ Just learning to walk, little tufts of hair sticking up on their heads. Arcann had pulled off one of his socks and Thexan had some of his lunch behind one ear. _

_ It was one of the rare moments that Valkorian gave them his full attention. He was sitting on the floor of their room, just out of arm's reach of the twins. She was perched on the couch behind him, sketching out designs for building blocks for them to play with when they were old enough, keeping a watchful eye on the boys. _

_ Arcann let go of the couch and took his first unsteady steps towards his father. _

_ Thexan did the same. And started to lose his balance. He pitched forward and ran at Valkorian before he could fall over. _

_ He was caught by Valkorian. “Well done, son.” Valkorian smiled and rubbed his back. “Well done.” _

_ Arcann beamed at Valkorian’s reaction and shrieked with excitement. He toddled up to the couch and grabbed Senya’s foot. “Aaaahhh ma!” _

_ She pulled him up onto her lap. “Good job, Arcann!” _

_ He bounced up and down in happiness. “Da!” _

_ Valkorian turned to look up at him. “Yes, good job.” _

_ Senya could have sworn that there was a flash of irritation across his face, but then seconds later he’d pulled off Arcann’s other sock and was teasing the boys by floating it past each of them with the Force, seeing who could grab it. _

“Your pacing is not helping.” SCORPIO stared at her with her eery eyes.

Senya met the droid’s look flatly. She’d seen her fair share of haunting eyes, and SCORPIO’s weren’t even near the top of the list. That spot was occupied by Heskal. No other Scion’s eyes were just pupils, even when they were having a vision. And, of course, Heskal in general had a way of staring, unblinkingly, through her.

Even though he was very dead, the memories still made her feel like he was seeing her entire life while he spoke, and relishing in that power.

Maybe the Scions wouldn’t have been the best allies.

“I hate to agree with that-” Captain Visz caught herself before she said ‘droid’. “With SCORPIO, but the pacing is wearing through my nerves.”

Senya realized that they were talking to her. She sighed and took up a guarding pose by the window. It was the same thing she’d done for years with Valkorian sitting on the Throne and her just another armor-clad Knight, shield and pike never wavering.

“That’s not better. I feel like I’m going to jump out of my skin.”

Senya paused, about to make a joke, and decided against it. Instead she sat stiffly on the grungy couch. She started fluffing the pillows, trying to ignore her nerves.

There was nothing to be nervous about. Fiika could handle herself far better than she looked like she could. There was also kolto with her in case of a cold attack.

And the Devaronian she’d gone with looked like he was able to talk himself into and out of every situation imaginable.

The security terminal next to the door flicked on and projected a security guard. “Attention! Security lockdown in effect. Obey the commands of security personnel without resistance. Suspects are a male Devaronian, Gault Rennow, and a female human, name unknown.” Holograms of Gault and Fiika flashed alongside the guard. “They are in possession of a contraband explosive device. If you see them, contact security at once for the bounty on their heads.”

Senya remained still as the message repeated itself.

_ A price on her head? Not if I can help it. _

SCORPIO and Captain Visz were silent after the holographic display and accompanying message shut off.

Senya shot to her feet and resumed her pacing.

“Well. Shit.” Captain Visz inspected her blaster. “Should we go get them?”

SCORPIO did whatever the droid equivalent of a snort was. “No. Any rescue attempt will decrease the probability of the success of the mission.”

Senya traded a look with Captain Visz, deciding on a path of action. “We’re going anyway.”

* * *

 

“Where could I be hiding an entire warhead?” Fiika gave the pirate a simpering smile, popping the top button of her shirt to give him a look at her cleavage.

He was guarding the main doors that lead past the docks and into the rest of the mining complex, and he was doing a very poor job of it, because despite an arguably rough holo of her plastered on his left, he still didn’t realize it was her, and jokingly told her that she looked like the lady wanted for ‘a fuckin’ huge warhead bomb’.

The pirate studied her figure. “I don’ know. Maybe I’ll have to inspect ya…”

“Oh, would you?” She played along batting her eyelashes and almost disgusted with how easy it was to play him. “Do you have stun cuffs?”

“Yeah.” The pirate fumbled them off his belt, smirking. “Here.”

Fiika frowned, pretending to be confused. “Do they work? I thought they glowed.”

“Only when they’re on.”

She shifted her weight on her feet and dropped into a spinning kick, sending him back into the wall with a heavy thud. He didn’t have a chance to do much of anything before she had the stun cuffs on him. “Oh, I see. Now they’re glowing.”

Who she was hit him like a sack of bricks. “You’re that lady!”

“Yes.” She knocked him out with a quick punch. “You can come out, now.”

Gault appeared around a parked speeder. “Well, that was quick. Let’s go.”

She opened the door and winced as an alarm went off. “I’ll assume we need security clearance to get through any more doors without alerting them to our location.”

“Oh, what gave it away? Is it the blaring alarm?” He raised his rifle and sniped a security droid.

Fiika ignored his jibes and broke into a sprint towards the next door. She had both scatterguns drawn and primed-

Another pirate was guarding the doors. He saw them headed towards  him, and hiked up an assault cannon. The tip of it started to glow as it warmed up.

“I got this,” she yelled over her shoulder.

Gault’s response was lost as she dove to her right, dodging the charged pulses from the cannon. She whipped up both scatterguns and fired at the pirate.

The scattershots tore through him unpleasantly. She didn’t have time for a nice clean death, and her daggers were packed up with her other gear. Only an emergency knife was in her boot, and that was for when things got dicey.

Gault knelt next to the pirate’s body and rifled through the pockets. “Why doesn’t anyone carry credit sticks in their pockets anymore,” he muttered, before holding up a dataspike. “Think this’ll let us through?” He tossed it at her.

“It better.” Fiika caught the spike and shoved it into the door’s control panel.

The door opened without an alarm.

That was the good part.

The bad part was that, on the other side, were more pirates guarding the door. Their backs were turned to them, clearly watching the little grocery shop and tiny market stalls set up in a glorified yard that barely passed for a plaza.

“Ah. Crap.” Gault was frozen.

She raised her scatterguns and fired each repeatedly.

The pirates never knew what hit them, and never would.

Fiika holstered both to recharge and pulled out her boot knife. Half-charged scatterguns wouldn’t be that helpful, but a perfectly weighted throwing knife and the option to just take Gault’s rifle from him were perfectly acceptable alternatives.

Gault nodded to the apartment tower past the tiny grocery store. “That’s our safe house.”

“Perfect.” She led the way through the little plaza square, knowing full well that the shopkeepers had just seen her single-handedly take down four pirates armed to their teeth. “I could use a nice cup of tea.”

* * *

 

Senya kicked off one pirate’s chest and somersaulted over him to bury her lightsaber in another’s chest.

Behind her, Captain Visz whistled, impressed. “They really teach you how to kick ass, don’t they?”

“They?” She straightened up, frowning down the hallway.Her lightsaber only lit up the dank corridor so much.

“Yeah, the Knight people.”

Senya nodded, half paying attention. “Yes. They do.” She gathered the Force about her like a mantle and leapt down the shadowed hallway.

Blaster Fire erupted around her.

She tightened her hold on the Force in a protective shield, containing it about her with sheer will, lightsaber dancing around her in a blur. Senya knew where each bolt was going. She could sense it, and sense the exact moment she needed her lightsaber there to block it. 

Sweat slid down her temple.

And she released her grip on the Force.

The resulting wave knocked the pirates onto their rears. Well, to be more specific, the pirates that hadn’t been hit with refracted blaster bolts.

Senya wiped her forehead and stood, deactivating the blade.

“Shit,” Captain Visz swore appreciatively.

The light at the end of the corridor flickered on, then off, then back on. Then off. But it provided enough to see the shadows of a pair of pirates.

One of the shadows shifted and a blaster went off. The other shadow darkened as the pirate creating it staggered back to collapse within view of Senya.

A familiar knife was sticking out of their neck.

_ Fiika. _

She wasn’t captured by a pirate gang.

The other pirate scrambled back, and Fiika appeared. She glanced down the hallway to check for more pirates and grinned at the sight of Senya.

It appeared that Fiika didn’t have a weapon on hand-

_ Perfect. _

“Fiika!” Senya pitched her lightsaber at the girl, using the Force to extend out the bottom to lengthen the hilt. It would be somewhat closer to the foot-length training sticks they used.

She snatched it out of the air and the blue blade lit up the corner. Fiika slashed at the pirate.

It wasn’t a graceful slash, but it was better than what Senya had been expecting.

The pirate slumped over sideways. The other half of him slumped the other way.

Fiika picked her way over pirate bodies to return the lightsaber to Senya. “Thank you.” She frowned. “You’ve got that look on your face.”

“I’ve had a thought.” Senya kept it to herself.

“Hey, handsome. Kill your fair share?” Captain Visz let Gault wrap his arm around her waist.

“Something like that.”

“We’ve got caf in the apartment.”

“Perfect. We can talk details, iron out any wrinkles, get some shut eye…” Gault gestured for them all to follow him down the corridor to the apartment.

* * *

 

If the door was knocked on one more time, Fiika was going to just lurk next to the planter and stab whoever thought bothering them was a good idea.

The bounty on her and Gault’s heads had every pirate gang on Vandin doing door-to-door searches. One particularly rough group of pirates had tried to force their way in until Senya fixed them with a gaze that would’ve wilted flowers.

Fiika was curled up in the corner of the lumpy couch, cleaning blood off her knife.

Vette was watching her out of the corner of her eye on the other end of the couch. The Twi’lek didn’t like her. That much was obvious.

Fiika didn’t care any distinctive way about that fact. Vette was entitled to her own opinion about her, and if Fiika not liking her sense of humor had upset her, then that was Vette’s problem.

Gault seemed oblivious to it all. “If you’re still wondering why you’re here, it isn’t to check out the tibanna gas bars.” He stepped around the little pile of things that Dretcher was fiddling with and turned on the holoprojector.

A Zakuulan frigate appeared in blue, casting light around the dingy apartment.

“There’s a stealth cruiser loaded with more precious metals than a Hutt’s taste in art hiding down in the lower atmosphere, and it’s about to come up for air.” Gault’s smile showed off every pointy tooth in his mouth.

It was a little unnerving.

Vette leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “And while the Gilded Star is roosting at the skyhook for it’s annual re-supply, we’re going to rob it blind.” Her smile was far less threatening than Gault’s, but the sentiment was just as dangerous.

“How do you even know about that?”  Senya asked curiously. She joined them around the hologram, carrying a pair of mugs from the kitchen. One of them she offered to Fiika.

It was hot chocolate. Fiika smiled her thanks and took a sip.

“A little birdy told us.” Vette’s eyes flicked between Fiika and Senya. “I speak stool-pigeon.”

“Even if you do know where it’s going to be, it’s got a full military compliment on board and a vault that could survive the ship being reduced to atoms.” Senya seemed to realize that everyone had turned to look at her in interest. “Overseeing the Gilded Star was among my duties when I served Valkorian.”

Gault was still showing off his sharp teeth. “Most people would consider it impregnable, but we aren’t most people, are we, Senya?”

Senya didn’t answer. Instead she drank her hot chocolate, expression empty.

SCORPIO fixed the Knight with her unblinking stare. “You were privy to it’s operational protocols.”

“I doubt they’re still the same.”

Vette snorted. “You don’t have to run the thing, just get SCORPIO to the ship’s control center.”

Senya frowned at her tone. “There’s no way we could infiltrate that far into the ship undetected.”

Gault toggled the projector and the holo between them switched to a familiar figure. 

Fiika tightened her grip on her mug for a heartbeat. Ice rippled up her spine.

He was looking particularly proud of himself. The too-wide smile was still on his face, and the twinkle in his eyes had Fiika vaguely concerned. “Maybe, maybe not. But High Justice Vaylin can go wherever she pleases.”

_ Who- _

Her gaze landed on Dretcher, and then flicked up to Senya. Fiika sipped her hot chocolate as it clicked. “You’re going to have Senya pose as Vaylin. Hence the forger.” She nodded at Dretcher.

Gault leaned on a chair back with one arm. “We’ve got the best identity forger this side of the galaxy, as as close to a genetic match as we’re going to get.”

“I could never match Vaylin’sss gene sssssequence like that…” Dretcher picked at some wires in one of the tiny boxes he was working on, thinking aloud. “Though, maybe ssssimulating data corruption in her I.D.-” He pulled out a datapad and started typing furiously into it.

“And create enough doubt to bluff her way through.” Gaulst finished the sentence and turned his attention back to Senya. “Dear old mom can manage that, right?”

Fiika looked up at Senya and decided that both Arcann and Vaylin had inherited her murderous scowl. If the Knight was looking at her like that, Fiika would be hauling her arse to the opposite side of the galaxy. Gault was either foolish or ignorant, and both would get him on the wrong side of Senya.

She’d been on that particularly unpleasant side once, right when they’d got the Gravestone off Zakuul.

Gault continued on as if he wasn’t aware that Senya was far from being fazed by his quips. “Once ‘Vaylin’ and her ‘attache droid’ are on board,” he started, doing excessive finger quotes. “They’ll head to the bridge, seize control of the ship, and allow the rest of us to do our parts.”

“Like cracking open the vault.” Vette cracked her knuckles as she spoke. “It isn’t controlled by the network, so I’ve got to get into the guts of the ship to reach the mechanism.” A sour look crossed her face as she looked over at Fiika. “I’ll need your help.”

“Pleasure,” Fiika said flatly.

“Meanwhile,” Gault continued. “Hylo will bridge airlocks with the tanker transport I’ve secured for the goods.”

She was missing something. Fiika leaned forward, turning the plan around in her head, but it never quite clicked together. “How are we going to carry an entire treasury’s worth of loot out of the vault before anyone catches on?”

“Oh, we won’t be carrying anything out of the vault,” Gault said slyly. “Into, that’s another story. Remember how Senya mentioned that the vault could withstand everything outside being vaporized? Same applies to what we’re setting off inside.”

“The warhead,” Fiika breathed.

If they vaporized all the loot, it would still be there, just in atoms and not Force-knew-what. They could just suck it all out through the tanker.

“Exactly.” Gault seemed thrilled that she was cottoning on. “I’ll be pulling up the rear with the disintegration bomb. Once it’s done it’s job, we pump the atmosphere into the waiting tanker and make our escape.”

_ This is so crazy it might actually work. _

Vette spoke up. “Once that sucker explodes, the crew’s going to notice. Everybody’s going to have to high-tail it to the transport before they catch on.”

“Now, since we’ve got less than a day before the ship rolls into port, I’d suggest everybody get real familiar with their part.”

Fiika finished off her hot chocolate, mind working. She’d need detailed schematics of the Gilded Star for exit plans and contingencies. She already had some ideas working. “Anyone got smoke grenades?


	17. The Art of Thievery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The heist on the Gilded Star takes place. Vette and Fiika have a minor confrontation, Gault says something he shouldn't've, and Arcann takes some matters into his own hands. Lana feels guilty. Theron is a good Sleen uncle. Sorta.

Fiika smiled at her comm. “I’m alright. Just tired.”

The little blue hologram of Koth had his hands on his hips and a smudge of engine grease under one eye. “Yeah, we’ve pulled a couple all-nighters here getting the Gravestone ship-shape.” He paused. “Really, though. How are you?”

She sighed, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor of the dingy apartment. “You mean after my little disappearance act in the woods?”

He nodded. “I was worried.”

She’d known that, but hearing him admit it out loud made her heart feel rather warm. And her cheeks. “I… I think I’m doing alright. Valkorian was just trying to mess with my head, and I won’t let him. He just…” Fiika shook her head. She hadn’t told Koth that she’d seen Arcann’s past and even talked to him; if meeting him on a dreamed-up asteroid could be considered meeting.

“You’re stronger than that asshole, Fiika,” Koth said encouragingly.

“Oh? What did you just call him?”

Koth plastered on an innocent look. “Hm? Who? What?” He was being goofy on purpose to lighten her mood.

“Captain Vortena, I do believe you just called your Not-Immortal Emperor an arsehole.” Fiika couldn’t hide her grin. Valkorian had been such a sore subject between them that they’d ever brought him up, but if Koth was coming around to see that he was the monster every non-Zakulan said he was, then… They would be taking a step in the right direction.

He waved off her jest. “Oh, well, you see, that Not-Immortal Emperor got my girlfriend lost in the woods and mentally tortured her. He can’t be all that good if he’s done something Arcann would do.” Koth paused. “Maybe that’s where Arcann got it from.”

“Got what from?”

“His… evilness.” He looked around furtively. “Is Senya there?”

“No.”

Koth cleared his throat. “Well, I don’t think Arcann got his evilness from her. And that's as such of a compliment as I’ll ever give her. Just don’t tell her.” He paused, looking to his left. “Aw, hell.”

Fiika got a sinking feeling. “You’ve got to go already?”

“Yeah. Len-” Koth spoke to someone off to the side. “Why’d he stick his fingers in it without unplugging it first?” He turned back to her. “I’ve got to go, Fiika.” A soft smile graced his face. “Be careful and let me know when you’re on your way back. I’ll get the kitchens to make us dinner and maybe we can have a picnic.”

“That’d be lovely. Bye, Koth.” Fiika watched his blue figure flicker away, still staring at where he’d been a moment ago.

It’d been sweet of him to call and check in on her.

She fiddled with the comm, debating if she wanted to call Theron and ask for an update on Havoc and Kaliyo, but decided against it. He’d mention Lord Beniko, and Fiika still didn’t particularly want to talk to her. It wasn’t so much that Fiika blamed her for the entire incident, because she certainly didn’t.

It was that Lord Beniko had ordered her to talk to the monster who’d slaughtered Ziost.

The floor creaked down the hall.

Fiika instinctively reached for her daggers. She’d stuck them in specially made slots on the outside of the scattergun holsters.

“It’s me,” warned Senya as she came around the corner from the kitchen.

Fiika relaxed. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

The Knight stopped beside her. “May I join you?” At her nod, Senya slid down the wall to sit beside her. She’d ditched her pale poncho and baggy pants, now in the black leggings and the loose tunic she’d worn under the poncho. The leggings belonged to the Vaylin disguise she’d be wearing later.

They sat in silence.

Finally Fiika broke the silence. “Are you alright?”

The lines on Senya’s forehead deepened as she thought. “I overheard your conversation with Vortena.” She held up a hand. “Not on purpose. And.. I would like to clear something up.”

“You don’t need me to give you permission.” Fiika wrapped her arms around her legs, watching her.

“You might not want to hear this. I know Vortena wouldn’t want to.” Senya looked like she wanted to get up and start pacing, but stayed seated on the floor. She took a deep breath. “Arcann didn’t inherit his evilness. He…” The Knight struggled for words. “He was never like how he is now. He wasn’t consumed with anger-”

Fiika remembered the visions she’d seen. “I know.”

Seya’s head whipped around. “You- What?”

“When I was in the forest, Valkorian showed me what he considered Arcann’s weaknesses were.” Fiika briefly met Senya’s gaze. “I…” she stared down at her hand that he’d held. “I saw his childhood. He’s not evil, not like Valkorian.”

“What did you see?”

“I saw a boy who wanted to be just like his brother and get his father’s approval. He loved you. He never left like he was enough compared to Thexan, and…” Fiika shut her eyes. “Thexan and Vaylin were no better than Valkorian. They put him down, too.” She risked a look at Senya.

The Knight was looking absently at the wall opposite them, lost in thought.

She had to know. Fiika knew that right before a mission as critical as this was probably the worst time, but Senya had to know. “Thexan made it seem like you leaving them was because you were disappointed in Arcann.”

Senya clapped a hand over her mouth. “He- he wouldn’t, he said Arcann wanted me to go…”

“Arcann was heartbroken when you left. He almost went after you.” Fiika swallowed the lump in her throat. “I thought you ought to know. Arcann believes you abandoned him. And…” She was on a roll. Why not just tell Senya everything? “I don’t believe he’s evil at all. I spoke to him.”

“You spoke to Arcann?”

“In a dream. Sort of.” Fiika hadn’t told anyone this. She hadn’t told anyone that she’d seen Arcann’s past, either, but admitting that she’d talked to him felt exceptionally more taboo. “Valkorian got us both on some sort of dream asteroid, and… Arcann tried to protect me from him. He… he never intentionally hurt me. The stabbing on Asylum was an accident.” She fiddled with the hilt of a dagger. “There’s no kindness in his life.”

Senya was silent, eyes pink but no tears falling. “Oh, Arcann,” she sighed. Her shoulders were stiff with pain. “Fiika.” She fixed her piercing stare on her. “You believe he can be redeemed? He can be saved?”

“Yes.”

Relief split the Knight’s face into a subtle smile. “Good to know I’m not the only one.”

They sat there, in the half-lit hallway, silent. Pipes rattled in the wall. A voice in the apartment over yelled something. A vidscreen was turned up far louder than it was meant to be at.

Fiika rested her head on the wall behind her, eyes closed. There was something peaceful about the apartment tower’s inhabitants going about their lives, having no idea that their racket was relaxing some pilot-turned-spy.

“You should get some sleep,” Senya said softly.

“I’ll get up in a minute.”

* * *

 

Theron read over the notes again, checked that he had in fact measured the right amount of food, added the diced varactyl liver, and mixed it all with a splash of warm water.

_ How much is a splash? Half a cup? A quarter of a cup? Maybe I’m supposed to put the water in the bowl first and pour the food and liver in, and if it makes a splash, then it’s the right amount? _

The actual problem was that Fiika’s Sleen, Spook, had eaten his lunch of liver and dried crunchy pellet things, and was still standing by the food bowl like he hadn’t eaten at all.

“I measured it all out, bud. You’re fine.”

Spook licked his eyeball and Theron winced.

“No more food for you. Go on.” He picked up the bowl and set it in the sink. “Spook, get out. All done. Come on, come- Spook. C’mon.” Theron picked up the disobedient Sleen under the armpits and carried him like a toddler on his hip to Fiika’s room. “You got a nice walk around the base and the field. Naptime. You’re a baby, and babies take naps.”

The Sleen’s tongue snaked out and licked Theron’s ear, tail thumping happily.

He almost dropped the pet. “Spook- No, no no no, here. Your box.” Theron dumped the Sleen in his little crate lined with pillows and a stained towel. “Sleep.”

Spook blinked up at him.

Theron tucked the towel around him and hesitated. The notes said to kiss Spook goodnight for his nap, but-

The tongue flicked up to this time explore his nostrils.

_ Oh, nope. _

Theron settled on patting the Sleen’s head and leaving him to take a nap.

* * *

 

Fiika woke up on the couch, blankets tucked in around her and her boots and belt on the center table.

“Mornin’ Sunshine.” Captain Visz set a mug of steaming caf down next to her belt. “You look like shit.”

“Brilliant.” She slowly sat up, keeping the blankets pulled around her. She was cold again, shivers shooting up her spine. And she hadn’t slept well. Nightmares. Exceptionally horrible nightmares of Iknayids and fire. If Fiika did indeed look like it shit, it was because she felt like it. “Where’s our charming leader?”

“Gault’s already left to find a vantage point. Senya and that bitchy rustbucket are on their way, too.”

Fiika nodded, half listening as she shuffled her way to the refresher, mug of caf in hand. A glance in the bedrooms revealed Dretcher stretched out on his belly on one bed, Vette fastening on some sort of harness in the other room. She gave Fiika a sharp look.

She ignored the glare and entered the ‘fresher.

Captain Visz was right. She did look like shit. 

“Bloody hell.”

Fiika switched on the shower and started to strip, carefully hanging her wrinkled shirt on the wobbly towel rack. The steam would sort out the creases and make it look fresher. Everything else was dumped into a heap on the floor.

The hot water slowly warmed her up. She stood under the showerhead for a long minute, pushing out the adrenaline and panic from the nightmares, clearing her mind. This mission was important. It was her getting back into the swing of things after Valkorian took her through the forest.

She cracked her back and reached for the soap, making sure to stretch.

A pipe rattled overhead and the water turned frigid.

Fiika let out a particularly crass swear.

The icy water was not welcome. She’d just gotten warm.

She rinsed off in time for the temperature to return to scalding, before grabbing a towel and starting to dry off.

Fiika paused in front of the foggy mirror. She was just a blurry, fleshy looking blob, but… She wiped away the condensation.

The scar from Asylum stood out starkly on her belly.

_ Looks a bit like a lumpy biscuit from this view. _

The half-healed wound on her shoulder was sore, too. It was bright red. Senya had done some Force-healing, and Fiika had put some of her precious kolto on it before bandaging it up. She didn’t have any more bandages, so…

It would be a risk to not protect it, but she could work through the pain. It was nothing compared to other wounds she’d gotten. The pain meant it wasn’t life-threatening.

Fiika finished drying off and redressed, twisting her hair up into a tight braid that cascaded down her back. She reapplied her heavy make-up, making sure to look as unlike her usual self as possible. 

It was good as it was going to get.

She tucked her lipstick into a pouch on her fake-but-fashionable corset and headed out to find Captain Visz and Vette waiting for her.

“Ready?” Vette asked flatly. She was watching Fiika with disdain.

“Nearly.” Fiika slipped on her boots and started fastening on her scattergun belts. “Where’s Gault?”

“Probably almost at the end of his patience.”

Captain Visz cleared her throat. “He’s down the street by a food vendor. I’ll see you two girlies later. Be careful.”

Fiika nodded. She checked her pockets, holsters, the various knives she had hidden. Everything was where it ought to be. “Let’s do this.”

Vette silently opened the door and lead the way down the hallway towards the lift.

_ Why are you giving me the cold shoulder? _

It hadn’t bothered her yesterday, but Fiika’s curiosity was getting to her. She’d met Twi’leks before, probably not as many as someone who’d grown up in Republic space, but as far as Fiika knew, she hadn’t done anything to personally offend Vette.

And the little jabs of iciness were starting to grate on her nerves.

They stepped into the lift and Fiika rounded on her. “What’s your bloody problem?”

“What?”

“You. You’ve got a problem with me or whatnot, because you’re the only one who’s acting like I’ve offended you.”

Vette’s chilly gaze bore into her’s. “Not used to a tailhead like me not scraping and bowing?”

“Excuse me?” Fiika stared at her.

“I know you Imperials think you’re better than aliens, but I-”

“Emperor’s underwear.” Fiika pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m not one of  _ those  _ Imperials.”

“You’re all-”

“No we’re not. The stiffs in the military are those gits who’ll want anyone for a plaything. Or the Sith.” Fiika strode out of the lift the moment the doors opened. “You think I’m that sort. I’m not. So drop the attitude. It’s not going to help the mission.”

Vette’s scowl deepened as they moved through the streets. “You ordering me to do that? You talk just like those high and mighty moffs, so-”

“Aye, poppet, I got a whole load of accents in me arsenal. Got somethin’ in particular you fancy?” Fiika dropped her heavy accent. “That’s how I spoke before Agent training. They teach you to sound polished.”

They’d stopped walking, the early crowd of miners headed to their shifts moving around them.

Vette’s expression was unwavering. “Don’t expect me to take orders from you. You’re just a gun to help us pull this off.”

“Aye, and you’s the partner of the fella who thought it up. Not the leader.” Fiika matched her hard look. “But it’s me job to keep you breathin’. I don’t give a shite if you’s got a problem wi’ me, but don’t go ‘bout thinkin’ I’m the sort of Imperial who’s against aliens. I don’ like you ‘cause you’s bein’ an arse. Not ‘cause you’s a Twi’lek.”

Silence hung between them.

Fiika spun on her heel and left Vette standing in the market.

_ Blasted- Such a- _

She kicked a streetlamp. Being tired and on edge because of the mission wasn’t helping, and Vette’s attitude that all Imperials were scum just added onto her irritability. Fiika stuck her hands behind her neck and straightened, popping her back again. Sleeping on that couch had not been a good idea

_ Deep breath. Find Gault.  _

* * *

 

_ There you are, you beautiful little armored nugget. _

He beamed at the gray blip far overhead on the opposite side of little mining town. Looking through his macrobinoculars proved him right. It was a standard-looking Zakuulan freighter, but the disguised turrets and sensors along every curve and angle definitely weren’t standard. Nor was the occasional flicker of a stealth generator.

The Gilded Star.

“Hiya.” Vette poked her head up over the ladder, looking like a monkey-lizard had peed on her boot. She climbed up onto the warehouse deck and joined him. “That Allos is a real piece of work.”

“Eh. She’s not that bad. Definitely a lot looser than some other Imps. Harder to con.” He didn’t voice his real opinion. Gault knew how touchy Vette was with Imperials and Sith. She’d been a slave a couple years to a Sith when she’d been caught stealing on Korriban.

He didn’t want to imagine what that would’ve been like.

Vette took the macrobinoculars and studied the ship. “I thought it would’ve been shinier.”

“Gold-plated and stealth don’t exactly line up.” Gault rubbed his chin, debating if he needed to say more about Agent Allos. He decided he did. If Vette didn’t trust her, or worse, got on Allos’s nerves, then Gault had a feeling he’d be worrying about making any move lest the Agent think he was conning her. She’d been so touchy about plain old kolto.

She handed the macrobioculars back, chewing her lip.

He took his chance. “Who’s the scariest person in this crew?”

She snorted. “Senya.”

_ Wrong- Ah, well, true. _

Gault made a face. “Okay, second scariest?”

Vette eyed him suspiciously, smile beginning to appear. “Fishing for compliments? I’d say.. Creepy lady droid. SCORPIO.” 

“Maybe. Where’s Allos on your list of Who’s-the-most-lethal?” He watched her, waiting to see where she’d go with it.

“I dunno, maybe… Right above Dretcher, maybe same with Hylo? She’s an Imp Agent, a paper-pushing…” Vette trailed off, seeing his expression.

Gault shook his head. “Allos is an  _ Agent _ -agent. The classified Intelligence ones that no one knows about until they’re mostly dead. Not the sort of agent who does paperwork for Admirals. I’d put her right below Senya when it comes to being dangerous. She’s not an Imperial you want to piss off.”

“Aren’t those kinds of agents the kind that are Imperial diehards that’ve shaved their body hair into Imperial logos?”

“Not… all of them. She isn’t.” Gault only knew part of her past; the part that Hylo had security clearance to view. Most of it was classified at such a high level that Lord Beniko herself probably didn’t have access to it. But his gut said that Allos was someone who stuck to her word.

He trusted his gut. That didn’t mean he always listened to it, but in this instance, he did.

Vette was quiet for beat, smile dimming. “I still don’t like Imperials.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t like Tionese cuisine, but you don’t see me telling Hylo.” He paused and another look through the macrobinoculars showed that the Guilded Star was now attached to the skyhook. It was almost time. According to his chrono, Senya and SCORPIO should be arriving in the next ten minutes. On a Zakuulan shuttle. Technically it was stolen, but Gault prefered to say that it was borrowed, just for an unspecified length of time.

He did intend on returning it. Eventually.

The ladder creaked behind them.

Gault threw himself down on the floor, peering around the crates. Vette just turned.

Agent Allos was leaning on the ladder. “Bit jumpy?”

He sighed in relief and retook his seat on the storage box. “Oh, not really. What gave it away?” She caught the macrobinoculars he tossed at her. Gault pointed at the skyhook. “And there’s the Gilded Star, just like I promised. Now we just have to hope mommy dearest remember’s her daughter’s birthday.”

“I can still kill you from here, Gault,” a nasally voice snapped in his ear.

_ Shit. Were the comms on the whole time? Ah, that reminds me… _

“Great, really getting into the spirit of your character.” Gault pulled a comm out of his pocket and handed it over to Allos. He spoke into his again. “At least, from what I hear.”

The voice modulator Senya had was almost too good. “Shut up.”

SCORPIO interrupted. “We are approaching the checkpoint. No further communications are warranted until the bridge is under our control.”

“Roger. Break a leg, ladies.” He winced at the little flash of static as they cut their links. He looked up at Allos. “It’s in their hands now. All we’ve got to do it wait.” Gault set his chrono.

Ten minutes and then Vette and Allos had to start heading to the skyhook.

Allos leaned against a shipping container. “So how did you manage to fleece Lord Beniko at sabaac anyway?”

Gault let out a bark of laughter. “Just because your opponent has a sixth sense doesn’t mean you can’t use it to distract them.”

Vette had turned and given him her full attention. “You cheated against a Sith?”

Both girls were watching him closely. He shifted on the crate, grinning. “I could tell Lana was trying to peek inside my head, so I just made sure she got an eyeful.” Specifically, an eyeful of memories of the various people he’d known intimately, with a couple imaginative ones of what he figured the Sith looked like under her robes. “The angry glares she flashed were easier to read than anything I was doing.” Gault held out his arms humbly. “As for the rest, well, trade secrets, you know.”

“You kept your brain in the gutter so she couldn’t Jedi mind-trick you?” Vette was gaping at him.

“That’s-” Allos looked away and scoffed. “That’s not how the Force works. At all. You’re full of bantha fodder.”

“Hey, when you make your living in the galaxy’s cesspits, it never hurts to be able to sink lower than the competition.” Gault leaned forward. “What about you, Allos? How do you cheat with your boss?”

“I don’t need to cheat to win.”

He was very aware that his smile was not a pleasant one. “Ohoho, really?”

Her expression was not one of patience to play along. “Really.” Her attention shifted to her chrono. “We should get going.”

Allos and Vette gathered their things and climbed down the ladder.

Gault waved at them as they headed away. “Let’s bring home the dough!”

He just had to wait another ten minutes and then somehow get an extremely volatile bomb all the way up to the Gilded Star.

Without getting blown up in the process.

* * *

 

Arcann frowned at his ceiling, suspicious.

Something was nagging him, something was off; and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He hadn’t forgotten anything. He hadn’t slept with his cybernetic arm still attached; it was sitting on his dresser next to his mask-

_ What is- _

He’d managed to get sleep. Completely boring, uninterrupted, sleep. No dreams or nightmares, no lying awake and staring at the ceiling.

A faint smile tugged at his lips.

He’d gotten a good night’s sleep, and that was such a novelty that he felt like grinning.

Arcann shed his covers and swung his legs to the floor.

Sleep. He’d gotten rest.

There was a spring in his step as he headed to his refresher.

Perhaps today was going to be a good day.

* * *

 

The lift to the skyhook was guarded by an entire station of guards. Not Zakuulan guards, but the sort of security guards that only did their job for the paycheck, and not because they had unbridled passion for security details.

The gate into the guard station was just a cheap durasteel mesh. The guard standing watch was playing some sort of game on her datapad, and therefore didn’t notice Fiika until too late.

She knocked the guard out cold and nodded to a storage locker. “Think she’ll fit?”

Vette eyeballed the guard and locker. “Probably.”

“Brilliant.” Fiika unceremoniously stripped the guard of her jacket and cap before she shoved the unconscious woman into the locker. She pulled on the jacket and tucked her braid into the cap. If anyone glanced at her, she’d pass as a guard in the background.

Any scrutiny, and the scatterguns came out.

She unclipped the security badge on the jacket and scanned it on the terminal. The gate rattled open and they slipped inside.

Fiika led the way down a long corridor. Nothing was labeled, no voices coming from behind any doors. The plans Gault had given her said that the door they wanted was at the end of the hall, but the silence made her suspicious.

There wasn’t anywhere else where she could go, though. The mystery doors could get them caught.

So she plastered on a bored face, something she figured the guards would have, and opened the door at the end of the hall.

It was a breakroom. Some guards, off duty and wearing their uniform coats unbuttoned, were playing cards in the corner on a set of folding chairs. A couple others were sitting around a central table, with caf or datapads. Music was playing over a portable speaker.

No one paid them any attention other than a glance.

The stolen jacket worked. Fiika motioned with her head for Vette to follow her. 

She slipped in and made a beeline for the door opposite them.

Fiika caught her by the arm and pulled her in close. “Walk normal. If you rush, they’ll notice you,” she hissed.

Vette shook her off and continued at a slower pace towards the door.

Fiika followed a beat later, pretending to poke around the little kitchen in the corner first. If she acted like she belonged, no one would question her-

_ Bloody hell, who eats this rubbish? _

The conservator was stacked full of energy pudding. Completely and disturbingly full.

She shut it quietly and snuck through the other door. Vette was waiting for her, irritation on her face. “Could you go any slower?”

“All personnel. Prepare for testing of emergency lockdown systems and maintain your current stations.” SCORPIO’s voice burst from the speakers.

“I think they’ve made it to the bridge.” Vette started down the hall. “Nobody better mess with us now.”

Fiika kept her hands on her daggers. At some point they’d run into resistance. No skyhook guard would be allowed into Gilded Star, and the moment they were stopped, she was betting that it would end in a fight. She wasn’t dressed to bluff her way through.

She caught up to Vette and they rounded a corner together.

The good news was that the lift they needed to get to the top of the skyhook was there. The bad news was that it was guarded by a distinctively tall woman with muscles to spare.

_ Are you the one who eats all that energy pudding? _

The guard had her hand resting on her blaster. She gave Fiika a quick look and snarled. “You’re not a guard.” She reached for her comm.

Vette cursed and started to draw her pistols.

Neither guard nor Vette were faster than Fiika.

Her dagger was barely visible as it whipped through the air. One heartbeat it was in her hand, the next beat the guard was fumbling at her neck, hilt protruding from it.

Fiika casually yanked it out and wiped the blood off on the now-deceased guard’s jacket.

Vette open and shut her mouth, looking at her like she was just meeting her for the first time. “You’re… fast.”

“Trained to be.” She didn’t particularly want to make small talk with Vette. Fiika scanned her stolen security badge and frowned when the lift didn’t open. It didn’t open for the other guard’s badge, either. Fiika spoke into her comm. “SCORPIO, can you override the skyhook lift?”

In response, the lift doors slid apart.

“Your route to the vault is open. Though I can ensure no reinforcements will arrive, you will have to dispatch enemy personnel along the way.”

“Alright.” Fiika tucked her dagger away and entered the lift with Vette. “What’s the skyhook docking ring look like inside?” She hit the button for them to ascend.

“I count a dozen skytroopers.” SCORPIO’s voice came out staticy through the comm.

Fiika nodded to herself, thinking. Twelve wasn’t that bad. They weren’t expecting any trouble. Her ears popped as the lift flew upward. “I’ll handle the skytroopers. You stay here.”

Vette’s frown reappeared. “I can fight.”

“It’s my job to make sure you get to that vault mechanism. You stay in here and don’t get shot.” Fiika aimed a scattergun at the top of the lift. “This might be a bit loud.” She pulled the trigger.

The ceiling panel crashed down as the lift started to slow.

She hoisted herself up into the crawlspace above the lift.

The lift stopped, and Fiika smiled to herself. A vent was at the top of the lift shaft; and the ductwork looked like it led out into the interior of the docking ring. She stuck her head back down to Vette. “Remember. Stay put.”

Fiika climbed into the ductwork and started crawling out into the docking ring.

At the next vent, she leaned down and studied what parts of the room she saw.

A trio of skytroopers were off to her right, and below her was a couch. A cushioned couch. It was perfect for what she needed.

Fiika rocked back on her haunches and made sure her scatterguns were primed. Satisfied, she drew her daggers and kicked the vent out, falling feet-first onto the couch. She used the momentum to spring off it and throw herself directly at the Skytroopers.

They were droids. They were programmed to shoot at things that weren’t supposed to be in the docking ring. Fiika was one of those such things, but she landed behind them and so the Skytroopers had to waste a precious second turning around to see what the commotion was.

She barreled at them and whirled, daggers flashing in the bright lights.

Their power cables were sliced into scrap in seconds. Fiika grabbed one by the chestplate and used it as a shield as she ran sideways towards another cluster of Skytroopers. With her free hand, she drew a scattergun and leveled it at them over the shielding droid’s shoulder.

One Skytrooper crumpled when she pulled the trigger. Another balked, holes in it’s armor and missing a visual sensor.

Fiika adjusted her grip on the deactivated droid to hide behind it better. She fired the scattergun again.

The damaged droid’s remaining visual sensor dimmed and a moment later it’s engine burst into flames.

The other Skytroopers in the docking ring finally noticed, and starting firing as they swept towards her.

Fiika’s droid shield wasn’t going to last long; not with seven Skytroopers firing. She chucked the shielding droid at the last that was barely knicked with the scattergun and followed her throw, dropping into a slide and snagging a Skytrooper assault rifle. She tucked her knees into her chest and somersaulted behind another couch.

Blasterfire ripped through the cushions, sending bits of foam over the back to rain down on her.

“Blasted droids,” she muttered.

Fiika yanked off the security jacket and balled it up.

She took a deep breath, cursed inwardly at Valkorian, and raised the jacket up on the barrel of the rifle, watching carefully.

The Skytroopers fired at it. Judging from the position of where the shots where coming from, a trio was directly facing her from across the couch, and the last three were somewhere on her left.

Fiika pulled the jacket down and balled it up. She crouched down, knees and thighs protesting at the position, and she threw the jacket high over the couch as she sprinted left.

The Skytrooper assault rifle was braced against her wounded shoulder.

Every Skytrooper had turned to aim at the falling coat.

Fiika sighted down the rifle and picked off the nearest three, making sure to hit their primary batteries or engine.

The last trio picked up on that the jacket was just a distraction and aimed at her.

She hoisted up one of the fallen droids and used it as a shield again as she burst towards the Skytroopers. Her arm was beginning to ache. The droids weren’t light. Fiika tossed aside the rifle and drew a dagger, using the Skytrooper as a shield proper, throwing her weight behind it as she shoved one Skytrooper down and blocking the fire of another.

Her dagger flashed in the blasterfire light as it danced between pieces of armor. That particularly unfortunate Skytrooper fell over mid-step, power cords cut and sparking. She spun, dropping down and discarding the shield as she swiped at the legs of the standing Skytrooper.

As it fell, she buried her knife in it’s head.

The remaining functional one was trying to pick itself up off the ground.

Fiika drew her other scattergun, leveled it at the Skytrooper’s head, and fired.

It clattered as it hit the floor.

She raised her comm. “All clear, Vette.”

The lift doors opened and the Twi’lek slowly stepped out, taking in the scraped Skytroopers. Her eyes flicked to Fiika, mouth slightly agape. “You-” She pointed in the general direction of a pile of Skytroopers. “You- Alone.”

“Yes.” Fiika rolled her shoulders, wincing. The assault rifle had probably reopened the half-healed wound, and her other arm was tingling from holding various droid torsos that weighed half a bantha. “We need to go.”

Vette nodded and followed her around the docking ring to the door opened onto a teeny extendable bridge to the Gilded Star.

Fiika checked her scatterguns. The one she’d just fired only had one barrel primed, the other gun was almost fully primed. One heavy shot and then she’d be with daggers. “SCORPIO, what’s on the other side of this door?”

“Unknown.”

“Crap.” Vette drew her pistols, and gave Fiika a small smile. “After you.”

Fiika opened the door and froze for a heartbeat.

The narrow bridge was identical to- The deringer was hidden in her hands- Master Pattik and Darth Marr trying to shield her from Arcann-

She blinked away the memory of arriving to Zakuul. This bridge was narrower than the one that’d connected Arcann’s flagship to the Spire, and it wasn’t lined by Knights. But-

“Emperor’s underwear,” Fiika cursed.

A knight in silver armor was waiting at the end of the bridge, guarding the door to the Gilded Star.

“Vette, stay back. Don’t fire unless you’ve got a clean shot.” She drew her daggers and stalked down the bridge, shedding her pirate act for complete focus on the imminet fight.

The Knight’s helmet gave nothing away, but Fiik imaged she was snarling at her. The Knight activated her pike and took up an aggressive position that Senya often used when sparing Fiika.

Fiike feinted left and slashed, whirling to avoid the butt end of the pike. 

The Knight danced around her, untouched.

They met again, pike and daggers moving too fast to be seen. Just blurs, silvery or blue, marred the air.

Fiika twisted to avoid the lightsaber and flicked one of her daggers at the Knight’s exposed left side.

“Ah!” She stumbled back, hand over the wound. “You- You’re the outlander that assassinated Emperor Valkorian!”

Fiika paced in a circle, keeping the Knight as far away from her as possible and out of reach of the pike. “I’ve done other things, you know. Can I be called something other than the assassin? It’s getting a little old for me.” She was down to one knife. Her other knives weren’t in the sort of places where she could casually pull them out in a one-on-one duel.

_ Keep the banter going, give Vette a chance to get a shot in- _

The Knight charged.

Fiika wasn’t going to win this fight. She could sense it; she didn’t have the Force, nor a lightsaber, nor armor.

The Knight had all three of those things.

She grabbed the pike and ducked, forcing the Knight to pivot awkwardly.

“For Emperor Valkorian!”

A boot collided with Fiika’s hip and she let go of the pike, falling back. She rolled away as the pike’s lightsaber crashed down where she’d just been.

Blasterbolts ripped through the air and slammed into the Knight’s armor. Most were absorbed. Some went past the Knight. And one or two hit her in the vulnerable spots; such as the neck and belly.

The Knight dropped to a knee, helmet angled so she was looking right at Fiika. “You will pay for your crimes against Zakuul.”

“I already have. I spent five years in carbonite for killing the monster who destroyed Ziost.” Fiika aimed her scattergun at the Knight’s exposed neck and fired.

Blood splattered the door behind her and the Knight tipped over sideways.

“Oh, gruesome.” Vette joined her, tucking her pistols away. 

Fiika rubbed her hip. She was going to return to Odessen with a very large collection of bruises and aches. “Thank you. For the save.”

“If you die, who’s keeping me protected?”

She gave Vette a long look before offering her a hand. “We got off on the wrong foot. Apologies for anything I’ve done to get you right pissed.”

Vette looked down at the offered hand. “You’re cool and all, but still Imperial.” She made a face and took her hand, giving it a firm shake. “We’re not friends.”

“Bloody hell, no.” Fiika couldn’t hide her slow smile. “But we’re professionals, and we’re going to get this damned job done.”

“Exactly.” Vette grinned in agreement and opened the airlock to the Gilded Star. “SCORPIO, we’re on board.”

The droid technically couldn’t have emotion in her voice, but she sounded bored. “I am aware. I am tracking your movements.”

Fiika picked up the Knight’s fallen pike and followed Vette onto the ship.

* * *

 

Gault wasn’t exactly sure what Allos had done.

He had the bomb tucked away safely in a pack and was staring in mild disbelief at a uniform-less guard at the entrance to the guard station.

She’d fallen out of a storage locker just as he’d rounded the corner, in boots, a belt, a undershirt. Creative swears he hadn’t heard in years spilled from her mouth as she furiously righted herself and picked up a blaster lying on the ground.

Gault suck around the corner and up behind her. He couldn’t have her going into the station and alerting anyone. “Pardon me, lady.”

She started to turn and he knocked her out cold.

“I need you to go back into the locker.”

* * *

 

Eldine Zal frowned down at her nail polish. It wasn’t chipped yet, but the white she’d been wearing for the past three days was starting to feel… old. “Should I get my nails done for the gala?”

Her brother Indo didn’t look up. “Don’t you always do that?”

She threw herself over the arm of the couch and sighed, very loudly and very dramatically. “I have to look nice to impress the Emperor. High Justice Vaylin thinks we’d be a good match.”

That got his attention. “Vaylin thinks- Esne’s eyes. She’s playing matchmaker with you and him?”

“Mm-hm. I think…” She remembered the flash of surprise when she mentioned an heir and how he’d stopped mid-sentence. His well-crafted air of control had cracked just for a moment. She hoped Vaylin would send her to him again.

To be the mother of the heir to the Throne-

“Eldine.” Indo’s voice was sharp.

She frowned. He was interrupting her daydreams of what her life would be like. “What?”

“Don’t let Vaylin play games with you. Be careful. Arcann isn’t forgiving, and Vaylin less so.” He tapped a finger on his datapad. “Is this for that consort thing she was talking about a week ago?”

“Yes.”

“Izak damn her-”

“Indo!”

His expression was severe. “Don’t. For the love of everything, don’t try and become a consort-”

“I’m not a child,” Eldine snapped petulantly. Of course, that sounded like a child. “Can’t you see what’ll happen if I have his heir to the Throne? The riches that we’ll get? We’ll have the finest things, and I’ll practically be royalty.”

“That won’t mean anything if Vaylin kills you.”

“She wouldn’t. I’m in her favor.” She shut her eyes and went back to imagining what it would be like to have servants doing her hair every morning and being escorted by Knights. The best way to make a memorable entrance was with Knights. Or- even better, on the arm of the Emperor and with Knights.

Wait-

“You’re not worried about the Emperor killing me?” She shot her brother a dark smile. “Maybe in the throes of passion-”

“Gods, Eldine, no.” Indo made a face. “I’ve been their event planner since Emperor Valkorian’s death. Arcann is… Eventually you learn how to read him. Vaylin is a ticking bomb. I never know what she’s thinking or why she does anything. She’s unpredictable. I don’t know why she’s trying to find a consort for Arcann...”

“But she’s not the one I’m interested in.” Indo wasn’t seeing the bigger picture of what having the heir would do to their family. Eldine sat up and gave him her full attention. She reached out with the Force, the tiny bit of control she had, and reached his mind. And then gave it a sharp nudge. “It’ll all work out. You’ll see, and thank me.”

A vacant smile lit up his face. “Thank you.”

That did it. Eldine poked his forehead, glad her little talent with the Force was better than just party tricks. She frowned at her nail.

The white nail polish definitely needed to go.

* * *

 

“Oh, here.” Vette stopped at an access panel to the ventilation shafts. “Help me with this panel.” She pulled out a servodriver for the screws and offered another to Fiika.

Fiika held up the pike. “Would this work?”

“Totally.”

She activated it and carved the panel away. The durasteel landed with a ringing thud at their feet.

Vette stuck her head in to observe the ventilation shaft and must’ve decided it was the right one, because she crawled in. “Okay, I ought to be able to reach the vault mechanism along this route. Keep clearing a path for Gault and I’ll see you soon.” Her voice echoed, along with the sounds of her picking her way up the shaft.

Fiika didn’t bother replacing the panel.

Gault’s voice came on over the comms. “I really hope they check for mynocks.”

_ Wingmaws are worse. _

“Are you- ouch- sure those schematics were scaled in meters? I can hardly move!” Vette snapped.

Fiika toned out their friendly bickering and hefted the pike as she followed the predetermined route to the vault.

SCORPIO has said that no reinforcements would come for her, but there would still be-

“OY!”

A blasterbolt whizzed past her ear.

Fiika ducked back around the corner, heart hammering in her ears. There hadn’t been a Skytrooper waiting for her. Whatever was firing at her had to be hidden or small. She slowly poked her head around and grimaced.

A small herd of smooth white probe droids were hovering in the corridor. They were oblong, like a river rock worn smooth, and probably just as heavy. Around their middle flickered sensory lights and scanners.

_ Blimey _ .

She set the pike aside and checked that her scatterguns were primed. The probes would be fast moving and poorly armored. A pike would only take one out at a time, while a scattergun could do a whole herd.

Fiika rounded the corner and raised both, aiming in the general direction of the droids as she pulled the triggers.

The resulted deafening bang was, in all likeliness, heard throughout the ship. Any surviving probe droid was treated to the second barrel of the scatterguns.

“What was that?” Vette asked over the comms.

Fiika retrieved the lightsaber pike and picke her way over the probe droids. “Nothing that’s going to fight back anymore.”

“Cool. And- Score!” Her voice was followed with a burst of static. “Oof. That’s heavy.”

Gault sounded tense. “What’s heavy? Are you at the vault?”

Fiika fired up the lightsaber pike and batted a stray probe droid out of the way.

“Oh, no, nothing. It’s nothing. Almost there!”

_ What did you get? _

Fiika was curious, but not curious enough to ask. Vette and her had come to a truce with their attitudes. She picked her way to the vault, following the opened doors that SCORPIO had so kindly left open for her.

The occasional probe droid would whirl at her before a quick slash with the pike would send it down in half. She wasn’t graceful with the pike, but it felt better in her hands that Senya’s lightsaber had yesterday. And the previous time she’d used a pike against the Scions on Asylum. That had been awkward.

Another probe, this one a dark gray, spied her and started clicking.

_ That’s new. _

Fiika hesitated at the end of the corridor, one hand holding the pike and the other on a scattergun. She fired and took down the probe, but not before it stopped it’s odd clicking.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” she said to the empty hallway.

* * *

 

The Sleen wasn’t in his box.

Theron checked it again, but the little guy wasn’t under the towel or pillows. Or in the pillow. He’d checked everything in the box.

“Spoooook,” he sang out. “C’mere. Uncle Theron’s got your breakfast.”

Nothing.

_ Where can one Sleen get to? _

Theron stood up and surveyed Fiika’s room. Her storage boxes were stacked neatly in the corner. There was a lot less than what he’d brought with him to Odessen. She’d probably been unpacking them slowly. Unless the Sleen could phase through durasteel crates, he wasn’t behind them.

The couch in the opposite corner didn’t have Spook on it. Or in it. It looked just like how he’d left it last night when he’d put the Sleen to bed.

He moved further into her room, going up the little set of three stairs to the second half.

The desk, up against a wall carved from stone, was undisturbed. So was the wardrobe in the corner next to it. And the ‘fresher door was shut tight. No way for the Sleen to get inside unless he grew opposable thumbs. Which, in Theron professional opinion, was very unlikely; but then he didn’t know that much about Sleens.

Theron turned his attention to the bed.

A telltale lump was under the covers, half-hidden by the pillows.

“Spook. I see you.”

The tail thumped up and down.

“You wanna eat?”

The pillows shifted and a fleshy gray snout appeared.

“C’mere, Spook.”

The Sleen wriggled out from his spot and padded across the bed to jump at him.

Theron caught the creature and sighed. “You like to be carried, don’t you?” He adjusted his grip and held Spook all the way to the kitchens.

Spook did his best to give Theron a free shampoo with his tongue.

_ My spikes are all messed up now, aren’t they. Fiika, the things I put up with for you… _

Theron set the Sleen down and went about getting his breakfast ready. “You know this liver smells gross, right? You probably think it’s the best thing ever.” Once Spook’s food was in front of the Sleen, Theron worked on his personal breakfast.

And within a minute found it very difficult to walk over to his cubby where he kept his peanut butter stash.

A look down found Spook with Theron’s pajama pants in his mouth. And an empty food dish.

“Still hungry?”

Fiika technically wasn’t there to say no…

Theron superstitiously glanced around, got a glob of peanut butter on a spoon and offered it to Spook. “This is just between you and me, bud, so no telling Fiika.”

Spook’s tongue snaked out and licked Theron’s nose.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

* * *

 

Turrets.

That was what the gray probes activated.

Two small, discreet, laser-sighted turrets.

Right outside the vault.

Fiika smiled to herself. The laser-sights meant they tracked movement, not heat signatures. She fished one of her extra daggers from her boot and activated the pike. Then sprinted at them.

The turret on the left sprouted her dagger handle in it’s exposed wiring at the base. The other was firing rapidly at the bright blue lightsaber on the pike as Fiika spun it at her side. The fast-moving pike was a better target than her.

Once she reached the turret, she whirled and cleaved it in half.

“Wowza.”

She pulled a scattergun out and frowned at Gault. “Were you right behind me?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want to interrupt a master at work. Besides, you looked like you didn’t need any help.”

Fiika tugged her dagger free of the turrets and buried the pike into it for good measure. “How thoughtful of you.”

“Heh. That’s me, thoughtful.” Gault spoke into his comm. “Okay, Vette, I’m here.”

“Just…” There was a small spike in the static. “Gimme a sec…”

“Time’s a factor.” He traded a look with Fiika, looking completely at ease if it weren’t for the way he kept adjusting his grip on the bomb.

Vette’s voice was strained. “Hey, you want to cut through a foot of cortosis and durasteel while hanging upside-down in a half-meter crawlspace?” There was an audible click. “There… Jerk. Try it.”

Fiika smiled faintly at Gault, amused. “You deserved that.”

“Don’t tell me you’re getting along.”

She hit the button for the vault door. “More like an agreement for civility.” Fiika had been intending to say more, but the vault doors had opened and she’d spied the sheer wealth inside.

Credit bars, the size of a Wampa’s thigh, were stacked. Everywhere. They lined the walls, stacked who-knew-how-many deep; others were on their side. And coating the floor and every other nook and cranny were smaller credit chips. Gold, white-gold, platinum. It looked like a Hutt’s wet dream. And she was standing in the middle of it.

It was more credits than she could’ve imagined. Just a handful could’ve pulled her entire family out of poverty on Ziost.

_ What could this do for the Alliance? _

“I’ve been rich, filthy rich but nothing like this.” There was a quiet reverence to Gault’s tone. “Counting the zeros on a balance sheet can’t even compare. There’s just something magical about the real thing.”

“I… I couldn’t begin to put a number to all this.” Fiika pocketed a tiny little white-gold credit chip. It had to be worth hundreds of the gold ones, which were each worth hundreds of silver ones, so… Her brain blanked on the math.

“At a certain point, you just stop counting.” He set the bomb down in the center of the vault. “It won’t look nearly as impressive in a second, but it’ll spend all the same.”

Fiika followed him out of the vault, or to be more accurate, she had to be tugged out by the sleeve. “It’s- That’s a load of zeros.”

Gault hit the button to close the vault door. “Do the honors?”

Had Fiika’s mind been present and not still trying to tally decimal places in her head, she would’ve seen him offering her the trigger for the bomb. But since her mind was stuck in math, she didn’t see it.

“To lucrative partnerships,” he toasted. And then pressed the trigger.

The boom knocked her back to her senses. 

Fiika grinned at him. “I think I ought to thank Arcann for setting this up so easily for you.” In one of her pouches- Yep, it was there. She opened her lipstick and scrawled a little message for the Emperor on the vault door.

“Payload’s delivered.” Gault watched her write while he spoke. “It’s time for the paydirt.” His smile turned fierce, showing off his pointy teeth. “Thanks, Arcann. Heart, the Alliance. Allos, you like playing with fire, don’t you?”

She added more lipstick to her mouth before kissing the vault door, leaving a bright red pair of puckered lipstick marks next to ‘The Alliance’. “Nothing wrong with a spot of fun.”

“Just remember we still gotta get out of here.”

Fiika tucked the remnants of her lipstick back into the pouch. “As I’m certain you’ve noticed, I’m exceptionally good at what I do.” She checked her scatterguns and made sure the pike was slung across her back.

The comms crackled. “We’re in position.” Captain Visz’s voice shot out of the speaker. “Extending umbilical- Seal tight. All green.”

SCORPIO’s end didn’t crackle. Fiika put it down to the droid fixing every piece of technology she came into contact with. “Airlock disengaged. Awaiting order for depressurization.”

“Door is… Open!” Vette’s announcement was followed with a slight giggle.

“Commencing depressurization.”

Captain Visz was humming under her breath. “Annnd- Taker is filling. So far, so good.”

“It will take approximately ten minutes seventeen seconds to siphon a space of that volume.”

Fiika didn’t doubt SCORPIO’s math. She’d had enough math today, thank you very much, and was content to let the droid do all the calculations.

“Plenty of time to make an exit.” Gault slung his rifle around and bared his teeth. 

Her mind jumped back to the stories her cousins told her to scare her away when she was bothering them. He looked, for a heartbeat, like the blood-covered demons she’d given herself nightmares over. The heavy curves, the teeth, the bloodred-

Something dark and shiny dropped down between them, followed by Vette.

Fiika shook her head. The nightmares had been bad enough last night, she didn’t to be reminded of old ones during the middle of the day. She fixed her attention on what Vette had launched out of the vent. “Where did you get that?”

It was an assault cannon of impressive size. Rotating barrel, a trio of spinning dampers from the looks of it…

She whistled.

It was a nice cannon. A extremely large and heavy looking nice cannon, the sort of size where Fiika herself wouldn’t particularly want to use unless she wanted both arms numb within five minutes.

“Oh, this little thing?” Vette asked casually. She caught their looks and couldn’t help looking smug. “I passed the armory and it was just lying around, so i figured nobody’d miss it.”

“It is unlikely the detonation went unnoticed. After we vacate the bridge, I will no longer be able to maintain complete lockdown,” SCORPIO informed them.

“See?” Vette hefted the cannon with a grunt. “Perfectly justified acquisition. Come on, I want to try this out.”

Gault made a face and raised his comm. “Just scramble the systems as best you can and leg it to the tanker. We’ll see you there.”

Fiika pulled her scatterguns and took a deep breath. It would be a race to the tanker. Either Zakuul’s forces caught them first, or they escaped. She stopped for a beat and considered Vette’s posture with the cannon. “Wider stance.”

“What?”

“With a cannon. Wider stance, lean in over it- There, like that. Now your aiming won’t be rubbish.”

Vette didn’t exactly give her a smile of gratitude, but she nodded her head in thanks.

And then it became abundantly clear that SCORPIO had just detatched herself from the bridge.

Blast doors opened, the lights dimmed as emergency red ones came on, and a horrid alarm started blaring. Skytroopers poured in from the newly-opened doors.

Vette released the trigger on the cannon. “Whoa!”

Gault said something.

It was particularly difficult to hear him over the alarm.

Fiika stalked past them towards the Skytroopers, scatterguns level.  She holstered one and fumbled for the knife at her lower back.

Then the knife was free.

And she started firing and carving her way through the droids. It wasn’t about scrapping them all. It was about getting past the Skytroopers to the tanker before they got caught. Or worse. When her scattergun needed to charge, she switched the knife to her other hand and pulled the primed scattergun out.

Fiika pushed through the droids and broke into a heavy jog. She holstered the scattergun, shoved the knife unceremoniously in a slightly too-small sheath meant for a throwing dagger, and powered up the pike.

The lightsaber would be better for fast, non-lethal jabs to get away.

She risked a glance behind her and found Gault on her heels; Vette was bringing up the caboose and not bothering to aim the cannon. It was set on fully automatic. That much was obvious. No one, human or droid, would be getting within any reasonable distance to them while the cannon was mowing holes into anything it was vaguely aimed at.

The Skytroopers they didn’t cut down-

She nearly ran into a doorway and twisted to get another look over her shoulder

The Skytroopers were re-organizing themselves into small packs that were charging after them. And they were moving a lot faster than Fiika was. Probably because they had repulsors on their back, rather like a miniature jetpack.

“Blast it,” Fiika cursed. She fumbled for a grenade and threw it blindly behind her.

They were almost to a blast door-

“NO!”

The blast door was closing.

Fiika roared in frustration and spun, kicking off the nearest wall to flip around and face the Skytroopers. “That way’s blocked!”

“Fuck. Keep them busy.” Gault started talking into the comm.

_ Keep them busy. _

That she could do.

Fiika then charged the herd of Skytroopers. The pike in one hand, half-primed scattergun in the other. She dialed back the blast radius on the scattergun to decrease the priming time.

Everything became a blur. Her wounded shoulder screaming in pain, sparks flying as the pike cut through durasteel and wiring, the deafening roar of the scattergun. The movements with the pike felt half-natural, like it was a new starship she was still getting a feel for. If it hadn’t been for Senya’s sparring sessions, Fiika very much likely would have been killed against the first Knight in the guard station.

_ Keep moving, keep moving. _

She forced her way through the Skytroopers, never giving them a chance to aim. Just ducking, spinning, kicking, pulling triggers-

_ Ow! Bloody armor. _

Her shin protested at being used to knock one Skytrooper back into another.

“HEY ROTWORMS!” Vette’s bellow broke through the screeching of the alarm. “EAT THIS!”

Fiika didn’t think, she just dropped to the floor and lay amongst the partially dismembered Skytroopers.

Blaserbolts flew overhead as Vette cackled. The assault cannon was spitting out bolts, and the Skytroopers were falling just as quickly. In fact, they were falling faster than they could be replaced.

She took the moment to catch her breath.

Ice started to creep around her shoulders.

_ No, not now- Damn you, Valkorian. _

Fiika fumbled for a kolto pack and stabbed herself in the thigh, thumb on the plunger and putting kolto into her system. There wasn’t time to do a proper injection.

The cold faded away.

She tossed the empty cartridge aside and took a deep breath.

“Come on, Allos.” Gault offered her a hand up. “Skyhook’s not too far.”

Fiika let him pull her to her feet. She holstered the scattergun. The heat from the barrel warmed her leg through the holster. 

Vette led the way down corridors at a steady jog, cannon tearing everything to pieces. “Why have I never tried one of these before?” She rounded a corner and the cannon roared. “Buda-buda-buda-buda-buda-buda-ching! How do you like a taste of your own medicine?”

“Hey, you okay?”

Fiika nodded, not looking Gault in the eye and loosening her grip on the pike. Her knuckles had been turning white. The adrenaline pounding through her veins was starting to wear off, leaving behind the sort of energy that only came around when worn but there was no end in sight.

“Perfect. You can lead us out of the lift.”

She turned, pulled her primed scattergun, and fired blindly at an opening door.

The Knight crumpled, helmet pockmarked and neck torn open.

Fiika didn’t stay to look at the blood.

_ Come on. Nearly done. _

She and Gault kept up behind Vette taking care of whatever the cannon couldn’t.

They reached a familiar hallway and broke into a sprint. The skyhook bridge. Empty. With a hand signal, Vette took up the rear, jogging backwards to cover them with the cannon. It was starting to smoke, but it was still firing.

And then there was the lift.

Fiika almost wanted to hug the doors.

Gault frowned at the lift and pulled out his datapad. “Oh boy.”

“The lift’s not coming, is it?”

* * *

 

Senya was sitting in the escape pod next to Captain Visz. SCORPIO had taken the controls of the tanker the moment they’d gotten on board, and she’d been pulled into the escape pod with Captain Visz. Senya didn’t ask why. There were more impending things than that knowledge.

She needed a shower to get the smell of the planet off her, to get the sensation of her daughter’s clothes off her. The hood of her cloak was pushed back, and she was twisting her hair back up into a bun.

Being Vaylin, wearing a copy of her clothes, threatening, the anger forced in her voice…

Her little girl wasn’t there. Gone was the blonde toddler who was made of sunshine and always wanted to be like her brothers.

Now-

Senya squeezed her eyes shut.

On Asylum, she’d sensed Vaylin’s heart. Black and hollow and full of terror.

Pretending to be her, to be her daughter who loathed her, hurt.

Vaylin had been more like Arcann. They had their grandmother’s blonde hair, their mother’s quiet temperament. But then pieces of Valkorian were in Vaylin. When she got frustrated, her solution was to use the Force to fix whatever was wrong. Usually breaking whatever hadn’t been working.

Vaylin had been the most powerful of the children with the Force. And it was her solution to everything.

Senya swallowed the guilt. She’d told Valkorian that Vaylin needed more training, she needed to control her power or it could be dangerous.

He’d noted her concern and done the worst possible thing he could’ve.

And Nathema-

_ Oh, Vaylin. I should have fought harder. _

A warm tear slid down her cheek.

Senya needed to get these clothes off, get the memories under control. She unhooked the cloak and started with the armor on her legs.

Vaylin’s cruelty was no act. Nathema and Valkorian had made sure of that. Yet- There had to be some piece of her daughter, of the little girl who just wanted to be like her brothers, left. No one was truly ever truly that far gone.

_ Except Valkorian. _

A shin guard clattered to the floor.

Arcann’s cruelty was an act. She’d sensed that on Asylum. The wave of remorse, horror. The timing of that had been when Fiika had been stabbed. Her intuition told her that her son hadn’t meant to hurt Fiika.

And Fiika didn’t loathe him how she’d used to. Something had changed between them when Valkorian had kidnapped her.

Senya wriggled out of the boots and flicked them to the other side of the escape pod.

_ Stop thinking about the children. _

She smiled wryly at her hands.

They weren’t children anymore, they were adults, and dangerous-

But they were still  _ her  _ children.

Senya sighed and reached for the belt buckle-

A wave of ice washed over her. A wave from someone looking forward to causing pain, who relished other’s fear-

“Vaylin.”

* * *

 

Gault was staring at his datapad with mild panic. Of course, Fiika wasn’t the best at reading him, but panic usually looked the same across species.

Eyes wide, jaw slack. Completely frozen in place.

“Oh, no. Lift’s coming. It’s just not empty.”

“Vaylin,” said Senya over the comms.

_ Bloody hell. _

“Time for plan B.” Gault started backpedaling away from the lift.

“What’s plan B?” Fiika followed him, watching the lift as well. Facing Vaylin would be akin to suicide. Whereas Arcann was reasonable and arguably decent towards her, Vaylin… Vaylin ws something else. Something much more horrific and harder to read.

She reminded Fiika of some of her ex- classmates at the Intelligence Academy, the sort who were a little too eager to get to the classes on torture.

“Run and hope for plan C.”

Fiika realized he was serious and nearly froze. He didn’t have a backup plan.

_ What sort of rubbish conman- Focus. _

She cooled her temper, thinking. “What about the escape pods? Or calling the tanker back to pick us up?”

He shook his head. “Too slow, not to mention it’s our only bargaining chip if we get caught, and I’d rather end up caught than take your other suggestion.”

“You’d rather be killed by Vaylin? She’s not the capturing kind.”

“We’d never be seen down in that murk.” Gault nodded at Vette. “Vaylin’s coming up the lift.”

She frowned at the smoking cannon. “Great. What’s the plan?”

Fiika tapped the pike against her boot. “He thinks we should run and hope something pops up.”

“Even greater.” Vette’s expression darkened.

“Skyhook’s still the best option, there’s just the matter of getting on.”

Fikka and Vette traded looks as Gault trailed off, thinking.

“We’ve got limited time until that lift opens,” Fiika reminded him. She didn’t fancy putting her pike-wielding skills against Vaylin.

“We have to go around,” he said, as if it made perfect sense. Which it indeed did not.

Vette looked just as confused as Fiika felt. “There is no around.”

Gault pointed at a window. “There is out there.”

_ You’re mad. _

“You want us to scale the exterior,” Fiika said slowly, making sure she understood his intent.

“Pretty much. Look, there’s no time to stand here arguing.”

_ Depends, I might want to die by falling into the gas giant inside of a nice comfortable escape pod instead of free-falling. _

Gault motioned towards the bridge back to the Gilded Star. “I recommend lodging complaints at a steady jog.”

Fiika and Vette ran after him, trading another set of looks.

“Ah, it’s not so bad,” Vette added, looking down through a window. “Just don’t look down or consider your own mortality.” She dropped the still-smoking cannon for the sake of speed. “Goodbye, Spewie! I’ll never forget you.” Vette blew a kiss over her shoulder to the fallen cannon.

Fiika cursed inwardly. Not a specific curse at anything in particular; it was more of a general cure. At Valkorian, at the nightmares, at the cold attacks.

At least the Ghost of Emperor’s Past hadn’t been making snide comments since he’d kidnapped her in the Odessen Wilds.

They re-entered the Gilded Star and the blast door to the Skyhook closed.

“Shit,” Gault swore.

“They’ve trapped us.” Fiika prodded the blast door opposite the Skyhook with the Pike. It would take too long to melt or carve their way through.

“Ahem.”

She looked over at Vette. The Twi’lek was gesturing to a security camera.

Gault shot it.

Vette pointed at an ventilation shaft. “We’re not technically trapped. Yet.”

_ I like the way you think. _

* * *

 

Crawling through the ventilation shaft had seemed like a good idea to Fiika until she’d realized she’d be staring at Gault’s ass for the entire time.

There were some views in the galaxy that she just did not need burned into her mind.

And there were certainly better looking asses in the galaxy. Koth’s, for example. Koth had a very nice rear.

“Almost there. You two hanging on?”

“Yeah.” Vette shuffled along behind Fiika.

“Aaaand... voila. Here we are.” The sounds of Gault fumbling with something echoed down the shaft until the vent clattered down into the hallway. “Let’s hope no one heard that.” He disappeared from sight.

Fiika somersaulted out of the vent, hung from her fingers for a beat, and then dropped daintily down.

Vette appeared soon after.

The three of them were facing a service lift to the exterior of the Gilded Star. That lift was their escape, and to get there without any Skytroopers or Knights was a small victory.

Fiika hit the button and they piled in.

A small comfort was that it was a service lift. No cameras, no ID scanners.

They shot upwards and she breathed a sigh of relief. Almost there, almost safe.

The lift doors opened and she was hit in the face with one of the nastiest smells she’d ever had the misfortune of knowing. It was worse that when she’d first arrived on Vandin. Exhaust, vinegar, and something far more vile that sent her stomach reeling.

“Holy mynocks,” Vette gagged.

Gault led the way down a corridor. “It’s not so bad.”

The walls were made of durasteel chain-link fencing, the ceiling. The half-sheltered walkway was only about twenty feet long before it opened up to the environment. A murderously smelly one at that.  Wires and cables snaked alongside ductwork overhead. 

Gault wasn’t paying attention.

Fiika grabbed him by the back of the shirt and hauled him back. A gray probe was circling an antenna tower on the other side of the fencing wall.

Before she could be stopped, Vette leaned around the doorway and fired a couple shots to take out the probe. “Problem solved.”

“Problem not solved,” Fiika snapped. “Now they know we’re here.”

“Shit.”

“Exactly.” Fiika broke into a jog. “Now we haul arse and hope they get confused.” She scrambled over various sensors, filter intakes, and a couple doors that she was fairly certain were for defense cannons. As long as those weren’t opened, she could pretend all was well.

They climbed up a ladder and sprinted along the hull, parallel to the shield generators.

A new whine filled the air. Something was flying through the murk towards them, something unfriendly.

Dread was creeping into her belly.

“Oy, faster!” Fiika skidded around a corner and balked at the railing at the end of the catwalk. They’d run out of room to run. The Skyhook was still not even close for a liquid cable launcher. They’d have to fight whatever was coming their way.

The whine got louder.

Gault was leaning over the railing, speaking into the comm again. Fiika had turned hers off. The distraction wouldn’t help her. Vette had a pair of smart-looking pistols drawn as she scanned the fog for the source of the whine.

And then it landed.

A black Skytrooper.

_ Well, brilliant. _

Fiika unceremoniously shoved Vette towards Gault and the railing. “Stay behind me.”

She tossed the pike aside and drew her knife. Last time she’d found one of these, she and Major Jorgan had nearly been fried to a crisp. Fiika charged the Skytrooper and dropped into a slide, dodging a kick and popping up behind it.

_ Where’s the accelerant tubing- _

“Ach!”

The Skytrooper fired up it’s jetpack and rammed into her before it shot forward, right towards Gault and Vette.

Fiika shot to her feet. “WHAT THE BLOODY FLAMETHROWER!”

Vette was running around it in circles, firing blindly and trying to keep it from fixing a target on her.

Gault was slower. “It has a what now?”

“Flamethrow- That!” Fiika threw her knife with all her weight behind it.

It sailed through the air and burrowed into the accelerant tank just as the black Skytrooper was activating the flamethrower. The blasted droid caught fire.

That didn’t stop it.

Fiika snagged the pike as she ran past it, flicking it on and getting between the flaming Skytrooper and Gault and Vette.

“Okay, so remember plan C?”

“You never got to plan C, Gault!” Fiika lunged forward, pike spinning. She sliced through part of the Skytrooper’s arm, leading it to, if possible, it being even more on fire.

“Turns out plan C is jump!”

Fiika whipped the pike around her to block a shot from the Skytrooper. She glanced behind her to see Gault and Vette vault over the railing and into the mist below.

Pain seared around her wounded shoulder.

She turned back to the burning Skytrooper. It’s eye holes in its helmet were burned out, giving it a leering look. The smoke swirled around them as the fire popped and sparked. Zakuulan guards, human guards, were rounded the corner.

“FIIKA!”

Senya’s voice.

She dropped the pike and ran blindly towards the railing, blindly flipping over it and-

And-

Arms grabbed her and steadied her on the landing ramp. Senya.

Fiika breathed again and realized they were on Captain Visz’s ship.

“Come on, get inside. We made it.” 

* * *

 

Senya watched her falling closer and closer to the ramp.

On the Gilded Star above them appeared Zakuulan Guards. They were armed with assault cannons, except for one curiously wielding a pistol, and all firing at the ship.

Fiika landed with a thud and she pulled her in close as the girl teetered. Her shoulder was bleeding again.

Senya let out a sigh of relief. She was alright, she was safe on the ship. “Come on, get inside. We made it.” She led her up the ramp and into Captain Visz’s ship.

The Twi’lek girl automatically strapped herself into the navigator’s seat as Gault took the co-pilot’s.

Her and Fiika wouldn’t be needed for this part.

Senya sat in the passenger seats and pulled her down next to her. Fiika was cold to the touch, almost too cold, and pale. “Let me see your shoulder.”

“No more of that bloody force healing.” Fiika’s voice cracked. “Please.”

The girl had barely slept the previous night. Exhaustion clung around her like cobwebs on her life-force. The adrenaline in her system was slipping away.

She understood. Senya decided she could force-heal Fiika while she took a nap. “Then just get some rest. You look dead on your feet.”

“Thank you.”

Senya settled herself into the seat, slowing gathering the Force in to heal Fiika. The girl was wounded, and needed that healed before it got infected.

She seemed physically healed from being in the woods for three days, but she’d been with Valkorian. The damage would be mental, emotional.

_ Izak help her. _

What could he have done to her? Fiika had said she’d seen parts of Arcann’s childhood, his past. How her son thought she left him. What else had he shown her? Ziost? Tortured her? She acted as if nothing had happened, but her face when she’d returned..

Senya leaned her head back against the seat’s headrest.

Fiika had been empty. Her force-signature was dim. Granted, it was brighter now, but nowhere near what it had been before Valkorian had kidnapped her.

The ship banked to the right and Fiika’s head flopped onto her shoulder.

_ Out like a light. _

Senya adjusted her so that Fiika’s head wasn’t at such an awkward angle and wrapped an arm around her, hand over the blaster wound. She slowly fed the Force into her, coaxing her body to heal.

Something else was wrong with her.

It wasn’t the cold-

Something- no.  _ Someone  _ was in her mind, ever so faintly, nudging her dreams into nightmares. Valkorian. He wasn’t present enough for him to truly control her nightmares, just enough to make sure her sleep was fitful.

The rest of his presence… seemed distracted.

Senya frowned and shifted, moving her hand to Fiika’s forehead. She put up a Force shield around the girl’s mind.

_ Let her sleep, Valkorian. _

His presence didn’t seem to notice that Fiika’s mind was now temporarily blocked off. 

Senya shut her own eyes, feeling Fiika breathing softly next to her. There was no good solution to blocking Valkorian long-term. He was too powerful. But now… just maybe right now she could get some peaceful sleep.

_ I’ve got you. Just sleep. _

* * *

 

Gault stretched his legs out as the ship entered hyperspace.

Vette was playing some game on her datapad, muttering to herself as it beeped every so often. Agent Allos was dozing in a passenger seat, head on Senya’s shoulder. The Knight had her arm around her. Her hand was on Allos’ forehead, and she was frowning. It wasn’t a frown that Gault wanted to read into. He had a feeling that she hadn’t been thrilled to play the part of her kid.

“Ah, this was a good one.”

Hylo was silent beside him. He’d put her quietness down to focusing to get them out of the Vanin system without detection, but now-

“Imagine the upgrades we could give the ship.” He turned his charming smile on her. “New seats with built-in massagers, maybe finished that saua in the captain’s ‘fresher… And some fuzzy dice. Every good ship needs some fuzzy dice.”

That had to get her attention. Hylo hated fuzzy dice.

Nothing.

She was checking the coolant systems again.

“Babe.”

Finally she slowly turned to look at him, smiling with exasperation. “So. Tionese cuisine.”

_ Shit. _

* * *

 

Arcann waited patiently for her call. Vaylin was prone to interrogating the Knights first.

The Gilded Star was not where he’d been expecting the Alliance to strike, not after they’d just gone after the hyperwave relay station below the Spire. Perhaps he needed to reevaluate how they picked their targets.

A hologram of Vaylin shimmered to life in front of him.

“Mother was here. Again!” She looked to be in a foul mood. “And she had the audacity to wear my face.”

That explains your mood.

Arcann didn’t ask for the details. It would only enrage her more. “And her punishment?” He knew Mother hadn’t been killed yet; he would have sensed it. All he hoped was that she could still talk. He had some questions.

“Escaped!” Vaylin roared. She visibly calmed herself down to speak in an unsettling sweet voice. “She knows I won’t be bested next time we meet.”

_ You lack her talent with lightsabers. _

“Are empty threats all you’ve brought for me? I have better things to do, as much as I look forward to your calls, sister.”

Her sour look returned. “I interrupted their little raid on the treasury.” Vaylin started tapping at something out of sight. “Oh, how darling. Someone left you a message in lipstick. Your little crush, I’ll bet.” She grinned unkindly as she read it. “Thanks Arcann. Heart, the Alliance. Hearts mean love, yes?”

He didn’t dignify that with an answer.

“I doubt she loves you. But perhaps she loves what’s inside the vault. They couldn’t have accomplished much in the time they were here-”

Vaylin stopped mid-sentence, face white with fury.

Arcann sincerely hoped no Knights were anywhere near her. He knew that look.

“MOTHER!” Her bellow roared through the speaker and the Force. Arcann could sense how livid she was, and it was all directed at Mother.

“Vaylin.”

Her eyes were bright. “The vault. It’s empty.”

* * *

 

Arcann paced his office, Father’s old office, waiting for the security footage to be transferred over. Vaylin had already been on her way to the Gilded Star. She liked to look at all the credits. But even her interrupting the raid hadn’t helped. 

Gone.

Everything was gone.

Well, truth be told, not everything. There was a secondary treasury in the Spire, but it was poor in comparison to the Gilded Star.

The datapad dinged on his desk and the screens on the wall lit up.

_ Fiika. _

She-

Arcann’s thoughts stumbled together into one incoherent mess.

The pirate with the endless blonde hair and swaying hips was Fiika. The tight bodice snug around her waist, the way her braid cascaded down her back, drawing his eyes below to her-

_ Don’t think like that. _

The bright paint around her eyes, the collar of her shirt tantalizingly close to falling open-

_ Do not. _

She smiled smugly, lipstick tracing the shape of her mouth. Fiika puckered for the camera. Arcann found himself leaning forward, and with a snarl stepped back.

_ Not Fiika, do not think about her like that. No- _

_ No… _

_ Not like… _

The footage changed to her stalking down a hallway, a pair of pistols in her hands and smiling. How the bodice accented her curves… What would it be like to feel them for himself-

_ Stop this. _

Arcann forced himself to watch her fight, strictly paying attention to how lethal she was against the probe droids and Skytroopers. One of his Knights must’ve been killed. She had a pike.

And she knew how to use it without cutting her arms off. Mother’s doing. She had to be training Fiika.

He noted how the bright blue of the pike lit up her face, the brightness curling around her lips, her eyes. The pike spinning around her waist as she spun, her braid dancing as she moved. Her hair was long, so long…

Arcann briefly entertained the idea of what her hair would feel like gliding through his fingers before his attention was drawn up her braid to her neck, her jaw… Her skin looked impossibly soft, at odds with her vicious fighting.

The tilt of her head, how her shirt’s neckline teased what was under it-

He shouldn’t be thinking like this. He shouldn’t-

_ Izak take me. _

The clever glint in her eyes had his imagination running to places that it had no business running to.

Arcann groaned and sunk into his chair.

_ Do not think like this about her. _

His emotions weren’t listening. Part of him wanted to watch the footage of her again, to drink her in, and the other part-

The other part wanted to do that too.

He locked the door with a flick of his hand.

* * *

 

There was a nice breeze cutting through the hangar.

Fiika thudded down the ramp, thudded across the hangar floor, and grinned tiredly at Koth. “Hello Handsome.”

“Hello, hello.” He adjusted his goggles, looking her up and down. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you smell like ship exhaust.”

“I just got back from Vandin.”

“And that’s why.” Koth kissed her gently. “How’re you?”

Fiika swallowed a yawn. “Bit tired.” She glanced behind her at Captain Visz’s ship as Vette skipped down the ramp, humming.

“Ah, there’s nothing like coming home from a job well done. Especially when you’ve ruined a huge jerk’s day in the process.” Vette spun in a circle, taking in the hangar. “So this is the Alliance. Huh. Thought it’d be bigger.”

“Oh, I could make sssoooo many jokes.” Gault slung an arm around her. “And I couldn’t agree more. Job very well done.” He rubbed his chin. “Come to think of it, our plan was lacking in one department.”

Fiika traded a look with Vette. “Oh, I know.”

“Yeah.” Vette crossed her arms, playing along. “An actual escape route.”

“It was the scenic route” he corrected. Gault paused, watching Hylo come down the ship ramp. “We’ll talk more about this tomorrow when the loot’s all divvied up. I’ve got a hot date.” He left them as fast as he joined them.

Fiika ran a hand down her face. She did smell terribly like exhaust. Koth was smiling faintly at her and making her cheeks get all warm and red. “You stop that.”

“Hm?”

“Not you, Vette, I was talking to him.” Fiika stuck her hands on her hips. “You keep looking at me like I’m the Gravestone, Captain Vortena.”

“Maybe I think you’re as great as my ship.”

“High praise indeed.” Fiika eyed him. He looked worn, but cheery. He’d also, from the looks of it, nicked himself shaving. There was a little slice along his jaw.

The fact that he’d made sure to shave the morning she got back, so she wouldn’t tease him about his stubble scratching her face, had her heart feeling too big.

Fiika was faintly aware of Vette saying something and leaving. Koth had her full attention. “How about I go shower off this stink and meet you for dinner in the cantina?” She frowned at his reaction. “What?”

“Well. You stole my thunder. I was about to ask you to dinner.” He was trying to hide a smile.

“Koth. You’ve got that look.”

“No I don’t.”

He certainly did. That smug smile of pride was rarely used on anyone but her, and it was usually when she couldn’t think up a quick one-liner to fire back at him. He was up to something, and it was something he was decidedly proud of.

She shook her head. “I’ll see you in the cantina.” Fiika winked at him over her shoulder. He had something up his sleeve, and it wasn’t just his arm.

Whatever it was, she’d find out eventually.

“Great, you’re back!” Theron passed her in a hallway. “Hello, hi, I’m fine, we’re all fine, Spook is in your room and got walked an hour ago.” His hair was half-spiked and he sounded distracted, barely looking at her over his datapad. “Bye, see you later.”

Bemused, she continued down the halls to her room, opened the door and-

And Spook chirped and leapt at her from the couch.

“You’re not supposed to be on there,” she chided halfheartedly.

He licked her, decided she tasted as bad as she smelled, and instead satisfied himself with whacking her with his tail as he tried to climb further up her, chirping happily the entire time.

Fiika hugged him. “Oh, I missed you too. Now Mummy’s got to take a shower, I’m a right stink right now- Spook.” Fiika tossed her belts onto the couch. “Spook, don’t-”

The Sleen made a face.

“Don’t lick that.” The bodice and boots soon joined the pile of clothing. She padded into her refresher and powered up the shower, Spook following her. Fiika opened the shower door and sighed when he leapt in. “I suppose you can have a bath too.”

* * *

 

Koth waited patiently in the cantina. He’d talked to the cooks, found the one who knew how to make exactly what he was looking for, and had it all set up.

Valkorian had messed with Fiika, and obviously was no benevolent Immortal like Zakuulans were led to believe. He knew that much now.

No one got Fiika lost in the wilds for three days and stayed on Koth’s good list.

She wasn’t alright, no matter what she said.

Well, no, that wasn’t entirely accurate. She was better than when she’d first gotten back, but she still wasn’t fully recovered from whatever Valkorian had done to her. She had some problems sleeping.

So Koth waited patiently for her. His little plan wasn’t going to fix anything Valkorian did to her, but he wanted to make her feel better. Let her know that he was there for her.

Fiika entered the cantina, spied him, and started wearing her way through the tables. Her hair was in a damp bun and all the make-up was scrubbed off. She was only wearing an old Imperial sparring shirt and her uniform pants.

Her smile was weary as she slid into the booth across from him. 

Koth signaled to a serving droid before reaching across the table and taking her hands. “So, how was it? Vandin, the ships, the heist.”

“Stressful, smelly, stressful. In that order.” Fiika shook her head, chuckling. “No, actually, it went rather smoothly until we had to leave the Gilded Star. Our exit strategy left much to be desired… Koth.” She sat up, watching the kitchen door. “Is that-

The serving droid set a bowl of soup in front of each of them. It was perfect, in Koth’s opinion, since the weather was starting to turn to autumn and the nights were starting to have a bit of bite. It was only a couple weeks until he’d find frost on the Gravestone’s hull.

“Koth,” she breathed. “You…” Fiika looked back up at him, speechless. She might not have been saying anything, but her expression told him what he needed to know.

He wasn’t good with words, so he just had a spoonful. Whatever kind of fish was in the soup was delicious.

She was staring at him like he was some sort of saint. “How? This is…” Fiika’s spoon hesitated over the top of the bowl, as if she were uncertain.

“I’ve never had Ziost food, and… I’d hoped it’d cheer you up. After, you know… the... “ He gestured with his hand. “Being lost in the woods. And stuff.” Koth watched her take a bite, and relaxed as she went for a second.

_ Good job Vortena. _

“Thank you.”

“I’ve got desert back on the Gravestone.”

Fiika’s smile turned teasing. “Unless it’s the pilot’s seat, I can’t promise that I’ll be interested.”

* * *

 

_ She couldn’t get away, the growling was closer, nearly on her heels now. The low-hanging branches whipped her face as she ran past. _

_ Her ankle hit something and Fiika tumbled into the brush, twisting to face whatever was coming. _

_ Horrid eyes of embers glowed out at her, slowly getting closer- _

Something wet licked her face.

Fiika sat up, trying to catch her breath as if she had actually been chased through the Odessen forest again.

Spook had crawled between her and Koth, and he was watching her, eyes reflecting the nightlight on the desk. The Sleen whacked his tail up and down happily when he saw that she was awake.

Koth rolled over, cracking open an eye. “Is he ‘kay?”

“Yeah.” Fiika scratched her pet behind the ear holes. “I think he knew I was having a nightmare.”

“Hm?” Koth propped himself up on his elbow, now waking up. “Nightmare?”

She nodded. “I’ve been having them on-and-off since my little foray into the Wilds.” A lump was moving up her throat. “I just… some are particularly unpleasant.”

“They’re dreams, Fiika.” He rested his hand atop her’s. “No matter what happens in them, I’m here. Always. Even…” Koth’s smile appeared in the dim light. “Even if it means I’m not always piloting the Gravestone.”

She shifted, lying back down beside him. “I’m going to say something, and I want no teasing because I’m very touched by what you said.”

“You got it.”

Fiika shook off the last of the fear from the nightmare by keeping her expression calm. “I think you might,  _ might  _ be a better pilot than me when it comes to the Gravestone. And only the Gravestone.”

He clapped a hand over his mouth, chuckling. “Oh, you really mean that.”

“Only with the Gravestone.” She pulled the blankets tighter around her, starting to feel cold. “Since you’ve gotten so much practice in flying it and I haven’t even sat in the blasted pilot’s seat.”

Koth was still grinning. “And I swore I wouldn’t tease you about that. That’s called torture, Fiika.”

“Mmm,” she agreed. Now that the nightmare had passed, sleep was coming to claim her again. Fiika scooted closer to him, using his bicep as her pillow. He was warmer than her.

Spook, now upset from his spot between them, curled up at the foot of the bed.

Fiika felt Koth kiss her forehead before she drifted back to sleep.

* * *

 

Theron wasn’t used to yelling happening in the war room when neither Senya, Koth, nor Kaliyo were in it.

There was a first time for everything.

He walked in, saw exactly who was arguing, and wished he’d never heard the arguing in the first place.

If there ever was anyone who he would’ve said would never be fighting, it would’ve been Lana and Fiika. But now both of them were yelling at the other. Fiika’s cheeks were red. Lana was white in the face. Both had on the sort of furious expressions that would’ve had a smarter man than Theron just leave and quietly close the door behind him.

Instead he loudly dropped his datapad onto his desk. “What’s going on?”

Lana whirled at him, hair staticy and lightning flickering in her eyes. “It’s my fault that Valkorian kidnapped her. I sent her to speak to him, so I am responsible for what happened. I knew exactly what he’d done to Ziost, and yet I thought it worth the risk. Tell her I’m at fault for it all!”

“No you bloody aren’t!” Fiika glared at Theron over Lana’s shoulder. “Explain to her that she’s not bloody responsible for what that arse does.”

He opened and shut his mouth. “I- you two are fighting over who’s to blame for Fiika getting lost?”

“I’m saying that Lord Beniko isn’t to blame. Valkorian is a monster and does what he so pleases. He’s the one who made me get lost.”

Lana’s frown deeped. “But I’m the one who told you to talk to him in the first place! I knew I shouldn’t have, but I did.”

“Not your fault he kidnapped me!”

“But if I hadn’t’-”

“HEY!” Theron roared. They both looked at him. “Lana, not your fault Valkorian got her lost. At all, okay? And Fiika, you understand that her intentions were to help the Alliance?”

They both nodded.

“Good. Now, hug it out.”

They both stared at him.

Theron sighed. “You hug. You know, a-”

“We know what a hug is, Theron,” snapped Lana.

Fiika looked equally put off. “Why would we hug?”

He looked between the pair of them. “Because… you’re not fighting anymore? Problem solved?”

“Your bloody Republic customs won’t work on us. Imperials don’t  _ hug _ .”

* * *

 

Lana waited for Fiika. Yes, now she knew that Fiika wasn’t blaming her for being kidnapped by Valkorian, and that she shouldn’t blame herself, but…

There was still awkwardness between them. Fiika was stiff.

And so Lana waited. They were about to meet Hylo and the others to discuss the Alliance’s now overflowing treasury.

Fiika rounded the corner of the corridor and blinked at her.

That was it. No smile, no flippant salute.

“Fiika.”

“M’Lord.”

“I’m sorry.”

Fiika continued past her. “I said you don’t need to blame yourself for what Valkorian did to me in the forest.”

Lana bit down on her anger. It wasn’t directed at Fiika, it was at herself. She didn’t need to blame herself, but she still felt like she ought to. “No, not that. I’m sorry for asking you to speak to him in the first place.”

She’d stopped halfway down the corridor.

“I knew what he did to Ziost. I knew how you took it. I’m not responsible for what he did, but I am responsible for what I did. And I asked you to talk to him.” Lana cleared her throat. “I’m sorry.”

Fiika bowed her head. “I appreciate the apology.”

“Fiika-”

She whirled, eyes bright. “M’Lord, I think it might be time for you to stop considering me to be your personal agent.” Fiika straightened. “I- My loyalties are to the Alliance first. And I think we both need to cool off and get our minds settled over that particular order.”

“Fiika. As your boss, I did it for the Alliance. And as your friend, I deeply regret it and will never do it again.”

“I understand.”

Lana forced aside whatever painful emotion that was currently clawing its way through her heart. “How can I earn your forgiveness? You’re one of the few people I trust.”

“I don’t know.”

And her honesty nearly made Lana grieve.

* * *

 

Fiika pinched the bridge of her nose as she sat down in Captain Visz’s workshop.

The dubiously good news was that Lord Beniko was no longer blaming herself for what Valkorian had done to her. The lesser news was that their friendship had suffered a blow and that Lord Beniko was going to feel guilty about  _ that _ .

And then of course, she’d chosen the worst time possible to inform Lord Beniko that she put her loyalties to Master Pattik first before Lord Beniko. He was the Commander of the Alliance. And Fiika hadn’t exactly said what she’d meant the best way either.

She shook her head. It would be something to deal with later.

Master Pattik sat down beside her. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in here. How many rooms are in the base?”

Fiika could remember coordinating the various material deliveries and overseeing construction. And the smugglers who helped themselves to equipment. “Too blasted many.” She glanced at him and caught the Jedi studying her. “Don’t.”

“Hard for me to stop if I don’t know what to don’t do,” he said lightly.

“Don’t look at me like I’ve sprouted a second head from being in the woods.”

“Ah.” He looked away. “That wasn’t what I was doing.”

“Bantha fodder.”

Master Pattik smiled faintly. “No, I was just thinking… I never thanked you properly for the lightsaber, did I?”

_ You’re a terrible liar. _

She smiled faintly at him. “You don’t need to.”

“In that’s the case, I’ll keep the bag of Sleen treats to myself.” He grinned at her look of outrage. “I am joking, you know.”

Fiika scoffed. “Bloody Jedi. Now you’ve learned humor. What’s next, sarcasm?”

“Mayb-”

“Okay, okay, everybody’s here!” Gault danced into the middle of the circle of mismatched couches. “Now, how about we get on with my favorite part and divvy up the loot?” He rubbed his hands together eagerly.

“Already taken care of,” spoke up Captain Visz. She was perched on a crate of dubiously-acquired goods. ‘Steak’ was spray-painted on the side, along with the Twin Sun’s logo. Fiika bet that neither steak nor Twin Suns were in the crate.

“What?!” Gault stage-whispered.

She smirked at him. “You, Vette, and Dretcher are already paid out. I took the liberty of skimming what you still owe me off your’s.” Captain Visz winked.

He waved her off dramatically. “Take all the fun out of it, why don’t you.”

“Your idea of fun is why your divving privileges are still revoked.”

Fiika looked around at Vette and the other Alliance members. No one seemed to get what Captain Visz was talking about. She turned back to face Gault. “Just what did you do?”

Captain Visz answered for him. “Run out on me with the biggest score of our careers.”

Koth whistled. “And you still talk to him?”

“I’ve regretted it ever since.” Gault slid his arm around her waist. “Well, after the shine wore off… A little older, a little wiser, you know? Okay- Maybe a lot older.” He caught someone’s judgemental look. “It was a formative moment! The point is we’re onto bigger and better things.”

Fiika raised her eyebrows, deciding he was laying it on thick.

“Like melting a mint down into liquid happiness!” Gault gestured to everyone. “Now, however you want to spend your cut is none of my business, but if you want, to, say, triple it… I might have a little something in the books.”

Master Pattik polite smile had turned into a frown. “I-”

“This money isn’t ours!” Senya rocketed to her feet. “I don’t mind taking it from Arcann, but I want nothing to do with it.”

“It does feel wrong to keep it,” Koth added.

Fiika leaned forward. “We were supposed to fund the Alliance, not our own blasted gain.”

“Who says it can’t be both?” Gault had his charming smile plastered on. “You just need a little ambition.”

Vette cleared her throat. “Or, you  know, you could try giving. Maybe just once, see what you’re missing?”

“Nah.”

She rolled her eyes and sunk down next to Fiika. “My share’s going towards buying back some of the artifacts stolen from my people, freeing slaves… giving Twi’leks a better place in the galaxy.” Her meaningful look wasn’t lost on Fiika.

Fiika held her gaze for a beat, before nodding. “I respect that. If you need a pilot to evade the Cartels, I’ll fly for you.”

“But not the Empire for their slaves?”

“I will not betray the Empire.” Fiika shoved aside the memories that phrase brought to mind. They were too sour to dwell on.

“Hmph.”

Captain Visz coughed into her fist. “Honestly, we’ve got way more than we for operations. It’d be good to have a plan for the excess.”

The room fell silent as everyone turned to Master Pattik. He slowly shifted, looking around. “I’m deciding because I’m the Commander?”

“Yes,” answered Lord Beniko dryly.

He sighed and was silent for a moment. “I’d like to distribute our surplus back to the worlds Arcann plundered. Finances could help them recover faster and bring some peace of mind to the survivors. Especially those he bombed after we took out the Spire’s droids.” Master Pattik glanced at Captain Visz. “I don’t care how they get the funds.”

“A fruitless gesture.”

Fiika inwardly cursed and twisted to look over the back of the couch.

SCORPIO was lurking in a corner. “That wealth will return to the Eternal Empire so long as they remain in power.”

“People are suffering out there!” Koth rocketed to his feet. “What are we to do, if not trying to help them?”

“I agree,” Fiika spoke up, glaring at the droid.

SCORPIO’s eyes flickered. “If you are confused, our objective is not to alleviate suffering. It is removing the Eternal Empire from power.”

“No fools in accounting and no accounting for fools.”

She turned her glare onto Gault. “So you don’t support helping others?”

He shrugged. “I’m not a fool.”

Fiika was about to snap something about the lack of an escape route when Master Pattik laid a hand on her arm.

The Jedi shook his head, telling her to not antagonize anyone. He looked pointedly at Gault. “It appeared our business is concluded.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Gault’s face split into a devious grin. “I figure you’ll be seeing me around. You’ve got a handy little outfit here, and besides, I wouldn’t want Hylo to get lonely.” His smile softened as he glanced at her.

She was returning the expression. “Hmph. As if.” Despite her words, she slipped an arm around his waist.

Fiika rubbed her temples. If she was going to be dealing with both of them… she didn’t want to think about the paperwork that having Gault around would entail. He’d probably con half the forces out of their paycheck, smuggle the decent liquor from the cantina, and all that would amount to complaints.

“If your Alliance happens to need a morale officer, I’m game,” Vette piped up. “Kicking Arcann’s butt should require a full-time party planner.”

Oh, no. I am not approving requisition forms for banners and streamers and balloons-

I will deal with this later with Theron.

“Speaking of parties…” Gault kicked open a box at his feet and pulled out a pair of bottles. They seemed to be made of gold. “This stuff sells for more than most freighters. Grab some glasses and get to know what success looks like.”  He nodded at Captain Visz and the room was suddenly filled with music.

Someone got the glasses, and soon Fiika found herself between Theron and Master Pattik, sipping the supposedly expensive liquor.

Theron bit back a yawn. “So, Fiiks. We keep them on, or not?”

She stared into the bubbling glass. “Depends. Is this really the expensive stuff? It tastes like my boot bottom.”

He frowned, studying it before knocking back his entire glass. “Definitely watered down and mixed with the cheap stuff.” Theron wiped his mouth with his hand. “The really cheap stuff. Wow. That’s got an aftertaste.”

FIika snorted. “I think we should keep them on. They’re creative. Master?”

Master Pattik was staring thoughtfully at the wall, eyes a little glazed.

“Master?”

He shook his head. “Sorry, I- I zoned out.” He studied Gault and Vette from across the room, lips pressed together thoughtfully. “We can use all the help we can get. And it would be rude to kick them out after they came to us to help steal the Zakuulan treasury.”

“My sentiments exactly.” Lord Beniko joined them. She held her glass like it had personally offended her. “Bad liquor aside.”

Fiika shoved her guilt away. “Then they’re stay- What is it?”

Theron shoved his glass at Lord Beniko, fingers on his implant. The blood drained from his face. “Major Jorgan and Kaliyo… they just landed. They’re in the docking bay.”

The bad taste leftover from the drink got worse.

_ Oh no. _

Lana shut her eyes for a beat as she took a deep breath. “So much for celebrating. Go ahead. We’ll be right behind you.”

Fiika handed her the half-filled glass and followed Master Pattik through the corridors. “Is-”

He shook his head tersely.

_ Whatever happened is because Valkorian kidnapped me. It’s his fault. Not mine. _

_ But I should have been there- _

_ Not my fault. Not my bloody fault. _

She broke into a jog, nerves getting to the best of her training.

_ They can’t be- _

_ No! _

Fiika skidded to a stop in the doorway.

Cargo workers were lining up four long, narrow boxes. Each had the Republic flag laid out over them. Caskets.

Major Jorgan was watching with undisguised anguish. There was a heavy bandage wrapped around his middle, and a fresh cut on the side of his head. Next to him was Dengar. The man had his arm in a sling and a synthskin patch on his jaw. His eyepatch was missing, revealing a sunken socket from a missing eyeball. One of his ears was covered in dried blood.

Kaliyo looked no worse for wear. Maybe her clothing was a little scorched, but she didn’t appear wounded.

Fiika took a step forward. And another.

Four caskets. Four.

_ Too many. _

“Total mission failure,” Major Jorgan growled. He tore his gaze from the caskets to stare at Kaliyo with fury. “We’ll never get another shot at the target, because of you! This is what happens when a criminal gets in the way!” He gestured wildly at the caskets. “I lost my team because of you!”

“You’re welcome!” Kaliyo fired back. “Next time, I’ll let the enemy kill you!”

“WE HAD THEM IN A CORNER!” He jabbed a finger at her. “Until you started tossing thermal grenades!” Major Jorgan got in her face. “I LOST FOUR GOOD PEOPLE BECAUSE OF YOUR LACK OF DISCIPLINE!”

Blood was started to stain the bandage around his belly.

Fiika pulled him back. “Breathe, Major. Get yourself to the med-bay.”

“If they were so good, why are they dead?”

“HOW DARE YOU!” Fiika whirled, knife in her fingers as she shoved Kaliyo back. “From my understanding, you fucked this bloody op up and now you dare antagonize a man who’s just lost his team?”

She had an ugly look in her eyes. “Get your blade off my neck.”

“No.”

“Agent Allos!” Master Pattik rarely raised his voice, but his roar swept across the hangar. “Lower. The. Knife.”

Fiika put every ounce of distaste she felt for the anarchist into her glare. “Give me a reason, Kaliyo, and I swear on the Force, I will end you.” She slowly backed up, sheathing her knife.

There was a fine red line on Kaliyo’s neck.

Master Pattik gave everyone a hard look before he softened. “Whatever happened on Zakuul, I’m just happy that you made it back.”

Lord Beniko and Theron were beside him, and they nodded their agreements.

“A lot of people didn’t, Sir.” Major Jorgan nodded at Kaliyo. “That’s on her.”

Kaliyo stuck her hands on her hips. “If I remember correctly, Jedi Commander here was supposed to go with you and Miss Agent was supposed to be my distraction. Then she went off and disappeared. Let’s share the blame. Besides, it wasn’t a complete loss. I snapped something on the way out-”

“My fireteam covered you!”

“Yeah, yeah…Point is, we lifted a datacore from the security console right outside that hyperwave relay station.” Kaylio gestured to a small core reader set up atop an old artillery bin. “It’s not the key to the GEMINI frequency, but it does contain a massive file archive all about those droids.”

Lord Beniko carefully picked up the core. “I’ll put SCORPIO to work sifting through the information. See if there’s anything to salvage from this fiasco.” She headed towards the lifts, probably on her way to the labs.

Major Jorgan had his eyes shut. “There’s got to be something we can use.” His voice cracked faintly.

Fiika nodded. “We’re not giving up on eliminating the Fleet.”

“We won’t get a second chance at the relay station.” Master Pattik frowned. “We’ll just have to hope we find an alternative.”

“It could’ve gone a lot worse,” Theron started gently. “But we can’t let this happen again. Commander, I recommend these operatives be confined to base for the time being.”

Major Jorgan took the suggestion like a soldier; with a stout nod. Dengar hadn’t moved. He was still staring flatly at the caskets.

“What? Forget that.” Kaliyo waved away the recommendation. “You can’t keep me here.”

Fiika gave her a frightful look. “I’ll find a way.”

“No, he’s right.” Major Jorgan shook his head. “We didn’t function like a team, and other people paid for it with their lives.” He started to turned towards the caskets and stopped, shoulders sagging.

_ Kaliyo doesn’t do teamwork. _

Master Pattik gave Theron a stern look. “No one needs to be punished. I was supposed to lead the mission, but.. Things outside of our control happened.”

“That’s an excellent point,” Kaliyo said, as if it put her in the clear. “I’m just saying we skip the moping and get back to winning the war.”

_ It doesn’t feel like we’re winning. Not anymore. Damn you, Valkorian. _

Fiika watched everyone but Major Jorgan and Dengar leave the hangar. “I’m sorry, Jorgan.”

“Where were you?” he rasped. “You were supposed to go with her to distract Arcann. Master Pattik was supposed to be with us. Instead we-” His voice cracked and he turned to glare at her, too much pain in his eyes for any real anger to have room. “They’re dead. Where were you?”

He didn’t know. It was arguably one of the best-kept secrets of the Alliance at her insistence.

Fiika took a deep breath. “Valkorian. He’s to blame. His force-ghost or spirit or whatnot was in  my head.” She didn’t want to talk about it. Talking about it reminded her of Ziost, of everything that happened in the wilds. “He… kidnapped me and got me lost in the woods. For three days.”

“Fuckin’ Imps.” Dengar finally spoke. “That’s some shit.”

“Ask Master Pattik, Theron, Koth, Lord Beniko, Senya. They all know it. I’ve got the monster who destroyed Ziost in my head and I can’t get him out. Blame him, not me.”

Major Jorgan sighed. “There’s too much blame to go around. C’mon.” He gently tugged Dengar towards the door. “Medbay.”

Fiika stared down at the caskets, feeling guilty.

Too much blame indeed.

* * *

 

Indo Zal had seemed far too relieved when Arcann had told him that the gala had to be canceled. He’d be suspicious about it, but he had more pressing matters to deal with.

Like the entire treasury being drained.

“I’ll start with her fingertips and work my way up. Take one knuckle at a time… and then her hands…” Vaylin was pacing back and forth in front of the window.

And Mother. Mother was altogether an entirely different matter that… he had mixed feelings over. She’d abandoned him and was now trying to destroy his empire.

Whatever anger and resentment he harbored towards her was nothing compared to Vaylin’s. She didn’t speak about it, but something had happened between them that had Vaylin loathing Mother with such fury that Arcann dared not ask, lest that fury be turned on him.

He played with a loose string on the couch cushion. “Do you remember Mother? Not what she is now. When we were children.”

The humming, the bedtime stories. She knew who was who when he and Thexan would dress the same to tease the servants, yet she always played along. How she oversaw their training every day, making sure that both of them got praise.

When Father wasn’t there, Mother was. And Father was barely there.

“I remember her telling Father I was dangerous. How I had to be controlled.” Lightning jumped between her fingers. “She alway hated me.”

_ You were her favorite. Thexan was Father’s. _

He couldn’t tell her that. Not without upsetting her. “She never understood us. Or Father.”

_ But she still loved us. Until she left. _

She whirled, eyes bright. “She helped that  _ harpy _ steal our pretties. They took everything!”

“Those things can be replaced.” It’d take time, and maybe a few new taxes, but Zakuul would regain it’s wealth. He ignored the jab at Fiika. It wasn’t the first time, and nor would it be the last.

Vaylin wasn’t satisfied. “When the worlds we’ve conquered find out what’s happened, they’ll think we’re weak. Test us.”

You’re fretting. Don’t fret. Stop and think.

Arcann was well aware that Vaylin tended to attack her problems head-on instead of pausing to think through the result. It wouldn’t serve Zakuulan’s prosperity if he listened to every idea she had.

No one could come to harm Zakuul or the Eternal Empire. He wouldn’t let that happen. His people came first, not the reputation he garnered. And if anyone dared attack him… that was what the Fleet was for.

He stood, masking his emotions from her. “I remain the greatest power the galaxy has ever seen. My enemies know what I’ll do to them if they cross me.” Arcann clasped his hands behind his back, daring her to challenge him.

Vaylin grinned, cottoning on. “Fear is always free.”

“And I will be generous with it.”


	18. The Beginning of the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war between the Alliance and the Eternal Empire is about to go from skirmishes to a full-on battle. Arcann wrestles with his head and his heart, Vaylin manipulates, and Senya finds a way to pass the time when her plans fall apart.

Fiika absentmindedly scratched Spook under the chin as she slowly read her way through the towering pile of reports on her desk. Admiral Aygo was having problems with that Private Schor again. Doctor Oggurobb had nearly burned a hole through the laboratory floor with acid, and he didn’t specify why acid was involved or what he was working on. Just that the floor needed to be repaired because of acid. 

Captain Visz’s report was even less detailed. All it read was “got stuff, don’t worry.”

It was Major Jorgan’s report that Fiika didn’t want to read. She had to; she had to be informed on what everyone was doing so she could make sure Theron and Lord Beniko didn’t send her or Master Pattik off on some redundant mission.

But his report sat in the middle of her desk untouched. Not even Spook wanted to sniff it.

She knew exactly what it contained. The same as Dengar’s, and Dengar’s had been horrible enough to read on it’s own.

Fiika shoved aside the guilt as she read the report. She should’ve not been stuck in the woods with Valkorian and been on that mission. And… Dengar’s writing. Before, his reports were small novels filled with lurid descriptions and every word for speaking but the word ‘said’. Now his report was barely a page long. Simply written.

It was better that way. Fiika didn’t want to read a long, drawn-out description of what went down on the mission.

Spook shifted on her lap.

“I know, we’re almost done,” Fiika told him. “Then you’ll get your walk.” She set Dengar’s report atop Kaliyo’s. Her’s was almost offensive in it’s lack of tact. Now, only Jorgan’s was left.

Jorgan’s report.

She opened a desk drawer and shoved it underneath empty folders. Today wasn’t the day to read that.

Spook leapt off her lap as she stood.

“Walktime, Spookie.”

He whacked his tail up and down happily before running towards the hangar. Spook knew that walks outside started at the lift down the field.

Fiika grinned and followed him. It was starting to cool off in the evenings; summer was beginning to fade away to autumn. The walks were getting more and more pleasant now that she wasn’t sweating enough to fill a bathtub.

Her Sleen was waiting eagerly by the lift, getting pets from various mechanics in the hangar.

_ You’re the only good thing to come out of getting lost in the woods. _

* * *

 

Senya wished she was in a better mood. If she was in a better mood, she could hum, or focus, or altogether anything but want to yell furiously at the cowardice of some Knights. Not all Knights, of course, but some. Specifically the ones who had originally reached out to her, wanting to follow her path and defect, but most of them had been killed off by Vaylin during some training exercise where they dueled each other to the death.

The remaining Knights that’d originally wanted to leave had looked between the two choices and decided that no, thank you very much, they weren’t going to risk Vaylin’s wrath and get caught wanting to join the Alliance.

Arcann’s wrath was never mentioned, oddly enough. Only Vaylin’s.

But Senya still felt as if she’d been left high and dry. She wasn’t entirely certain over what that phrase meant, it was an Outlander phrase after all, but she felt like she was using it correctly. And so she was in a foul mood as she started to type out a scathing reply to Novo’s simple little message that said he and the other Knights were no longer interested.

_ Do you not see what Vaylin will do to you? She’s already had half of you murder the other! _

Vaylin oversaw the Knights as High Justice. Technically she answered to Arcann, but only in theory. Vaylin answered to no one unless she felt like it. Whatever reins Arcann wielded over her were made of shimmersilk thread.

Arcann had his head on straight, even as a boy. He and Thexan had gone about everything in a very methodical manner, always stacking their blocks in patterns that repeated over and over.

Vaylin had been more artistic in her block-stacking. But after a decade on Nathema, something had cracked. Nathema had seeped into her, her sanity teetering on the edge of a knife. Sometimes she knew exactly what she was doing. Other times, the emotions controlled her with wild abandon.

Senya tossed her datapad aside. Writing livid messages would do very little to get the few Knights on their side. Actually, it wasn’t so much as the Alliance’s side in the war, but more about following, because at least she was sensible and some Knights, apparently, were loyal to people and not the Throne.

It was just that the Knights had changed their mind again-

All this sitting around while waiting for plans to be finalized was making her antsy. She wanted to be out doing something, sparring, teaching Fiika to properly use a pike, but today was the girl’s day off.

She needed it.

Senya remembered the exhaustion that’d clung to Fiika like dampness clung to the Endless Swamp. It hadn’t faded. But it hadn’t gotten worse.

She was loathe to admit it, even to herself, but perhaps Fiika and Koth together wasn’t… such a bad pairing. They brought happiness to each other, and-

_ What am I doing? I need something to do. _

Sitting around her room wasn’t helping her mood. No, it was too sparse, there were no little things about her. If a stranger was shown to her room, they’d think it was unoccupied. No personal effects were anywhere.

Senya growled at herself, mostly out of frustration and partially out of boredom. She was in no mood to spar against a dummy, because she’d end up breaking it; nor the Jedi and Sith on base, because she’d end up wounding them.

She needed to do something.

Something to get her mind to shut up and stop analyzing everything.

An idea struck her, an idea that had its merits and pitfalls, because it brought back saddened memories and a smile.

She pulled on a cloak, gray and old and worn along the bottom hem. It was one of her old cloaks, from before she met Valkorian. It’d lived at the bottom of a closet for years until one day Thexan had unearthed it while trying to find a good hiding spot from Arcann.

How it ended up on Odessen, in with her things, was a bit of mystery. Senya didn’t remember packing it, but she must’ve.

She slipped out of her room and headed for the field across from the hangar.

* * *

 

Theron didn’t usually wear armor, but for this particular mission, he was going it. It was less his decision and more than Lana was insistent.

Incredibly insistent.

“I don’t think I need these bracers-”

“You do, Theron.” Lana gave him a glare challenging him to contradict her. To emphasize her point, she held up her half-cybernetic hand.

He couldn’t help himself. “Do I need armor between my fingers now, or-”

“I don’t want this happening to you!” She cleared her throat, looking at his armor again. “The Alliance doesn’t need another Agent- You know what I mean.”

Everyone, regardless of they heard her or not, knew what she meant. It was the worst-kept unofficial secret on the base. Fiika insisted she was fine, but everyone, he and Lana included, still tiptoed around her and tried to lighten her duties. It was just her expression when she’d gotten back: shattered and hollow, that haunted everyone.

No one just casually survived a long weekend with the Sith Emperor torturing their mind.

Theron pretended he hadn’t heard what Lana said, and focused on the first half of her statement. “You don’t want us to have matching cybernetic hands? I think I need to rethink our matching Life Day presents.”

She gave him a dirty look. “Lifeday isn’t even close.”

“Never too early to start shopping.”

Her eye roll was impressive. Lana moved closer, studying his armor with a critical eye. There was nothing wrong with it. She just had to satisfy herself that he was protected enough.

Theron decided to help and dutifully held out his arms. “See? I’m covered, all nice and safe.” His chest plate was coated in a fine layer of cortosis, the greaves and pauldrons were sturdy, and best part was that it’d more comfortable than he’d been expecting. The worst part was that the helm, or rather, glorified hat, flattened his hair, but the built-in amplifier and antenna would help his implant’s sensors.

The worried frown on her face wasn’t going away.

He sighed. He’d have to antagonize her some more. “Do you think my jacket will fit over it?” The half-assed glare she sent him made his face crack into a smile. “Ha! You believed me.”

“You’re kidding?” she asked incredulously.

Theron struck a pose. “Look at this armor. Why’d I want to hide it behind my jacket? Besides,” he added, “it’s a dangerous place. I don’t want my jacket getting hurt.”

Lana pinched the bridge of her nose. “Force help me.”

“The Force might not be as good as armor.” He eyed her. “Now you got the fashion show of me in mine, so go put your’s on.”

She didn’t meet his gaze. “I didn’t order any.”

She didn’t-

“Lana!” Theron stared at her. “I’m getting armor! You said it’s dangerous! Why aren’t you getting any?!”

“I know how to handle a lightsaber!”

He looked pointedly at her half-cybernetic hand. “Am I going to have to insist? Because I will. If you don’t wear armor, I don’t wear armor. What if you don’t deflect something, or a grenade goes off, or…” Theron trailed off, his imagination going to places it rarely visited outside of nightmares. She couldn’t get hurt. He wouldn’t be there, like in the swamp, and- “You need some armor. Please, Lana. I’ll worry. I mean, I’ll still worry, but I’ll worry less.”

Lana finally met his eyes, smiling faintly. “There’s no need to worry, Theron. I’ve already got armor, so I didn’t need to order any.”

He open and shut his mouth. “So- Then- Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“I found it entertaining.”

“You Imps find everything entertaining.” Theron started taking off his armor. The dark red and gray jumpsuit under it wasn’t half-bad, either. It’d be perfect for  Darvannis. The sand wouldn’t get anywhere it wasn’t supposed to, he’d blend in somewhat with-

He stopped his train of thought.

Lana couldn’t read minds with the Force, technically, but she could and would still figure out the identities of the potential allies he was going to see. And he didn’t want to tell her. This wasn’t at all like Havoc Squad.

This time he’d told her where he was going. Just not for who, because if it didn’t work out, he didn’t want her to realize what sort of allies they could’ve had. Or if she knew, she’d refuse to let him go.

So Lana would not be finding out who he was going to see until he hopefully got them to be allies to the Alliance.

And then most of the Alliance would be needed for the assault on the factory. SCORPIO had told him, and only him, about it so far. The various bunkers, the sheer amount of production… Fiika would need some armor. She didn’t have any decent armor for a warzone-

“Theron?”

He realized he’d zoned out, hands still focused on undoing an already-undone buckle. “Yeah?”

Lana was frowning at him. “Something the matter?”

“If this works, Fiika will need some armor, too.”

“Hm?” She studied him, then scowled. “You’re giving nothing away.”

Theron peeled off his cap and ran his fingers through his hair to encourage it to regain it’s volume. “It’s part of my spy charm.” He started returning the various armor pieces to their boxes. He wouldn’t need the boxes for the mission, but he didn’t want the armor just sitting out.

She sighed. “I’ll make sure she gets armor. You make sure you’re careful.” Something flickered across her face. “I… I don’t know. I sense something… wrong. I can’t put my finger on it.”

“You’ll figure it out.” Theron pulled his coat on over the jumpsuit. “You be careful, too.”

They stared at each other for a beat, other words in their mouths that were clamoring to be said, but both of them were too determined to remain silent.

_ Please be careful. I don’t want to return and find out you’ve been wounded. It was bad enough finding out you lost half a hand after four years of silence. I… I can’t- _

“Theron-”

“I should be going.” Mentally, he was smacking himself. He shouldn’t be thinking like that, and holy mynocks, he’d almost started to say something- And he’d just interrupted her-

_ Get out of here before you say something stupid- _

Theron slipped out of the armory and repeatedly banged his head into the corridor wall.

_ Damn it, damn it, damn it. What word would Fiika use? Prat. I’m such a prat. The prattiest prat to ever prat. _

He took a deep breath and started towards his quarters. He still had to pack for his mission, go over the brief again…

_ I’m an idiot. _

* * *

 

Senya watched Fiika from the edge of the forest. She was behind a couple trees, having found exactly what she’d been looking for, and had paused to watch the girl with her Sleen.

Spook wasn’t quite getting the concept of playing fetch, and thought it was tug-of-war. Fiika had to pry the ball out of his mouth before tossing it through the grass.

The Sleen was a welcome addition to the Alliance, Senya decided. The creature was adorable enough that everyone liked him, and he was friendly. And his intelligence was low enough that he did some stupidly hilarious things, like run through the halls with his food dish on his head, banging into everything possible and leaving everyone who saw him in fits of laughter.

The wood in her hand felt heavy.

Spook would do. Sleens weren’t that complex of creatures. He’ be good practice.

Fiika sunk down into the grass to sit, smile fading into something more thoughtful.

Senya faded back into the trees, leaving the girl to her thoughts. She deserved her privacy.

* * *

 

Pattik stared at his ceiling. There wasn’t anything exciting about it. It was a ceiling. Gray durasteel, a welded line and a couple bolts. In the corner over the couch, there was a small spider web. On the other corner, a tiny bit of bright blue thread dangled from a seam.

Whoever put in the bolts probably had a hole in their clothes somewhere.

The welding seams were in line, parallel to his bed but not quite centered over it. It bothered him a little bit, but not enough to care.

He slept on his belly, anyway.

The durasteel bolts lined the perimeter of the room, connecting the ceiling to the walls and whatever support system was holding it up. Probably beams and girders and other engineered things. Pattik wasn’t an engineer.

But he was a Jedi, and he was currently trying to meditate. He was on his back, despite the fact that it would be painful to get up from that particular position.

There was an old Jedi proverb about how no one ‘tried’, either they did or they did not, but he was still trying to meditate. Except the sole reason he wasn’t successful in meditating was that he had some infernal song stuck in his head that had been playing in the cantina.

_ Fine. _

Pattik stopped resisting the song and let it consume his mind, giving it his full attention. The chorus spun around his circles inside his skull, repeating over and over-

“Master?”

_ Thank the Force. _

Pattik awkwardly propped himself up on his elbows.

Ryun’s Force Ghost was lounging on his couch, one leg thrown over the armrest. He was watching Master Pattik with a serious expression.

“Yes?” He heaved himself completely upright and winced at his back. Ryun was never serious like this. Not-

_ Not since Korriban. Not since when you must’ve sensed your end was near- _

Ryun shifted to sit properly. “I- Listen, this whole Force-ghost thing is, like, really weird. But.. You know, the Sith Emperor.” He had Pattik’s full attention. “You saw what he did to Agent Allos in the woods.”

“Not really.”

“You saw the result of what he did to her.” Ryun’s frown deepened. “Master, you’re going to get him, right?”

_ The blasted Mirialan youngling was still at his elbow after a week, following him around and trying to convince Pattik to let him be his padawan. He’d watched the youngling secretly in classes, asked the Masters about his skills, only to find out that he struggled in most lightsaber classes. _

_ Pattik had been trying to figure out how to gently tell the boy that he wasn’t going to take him on as an apprentice. He had been. Right up until the youngling had dropped what could only be described as a bombshell. _

_ “They’re in love!” Ryun insisted. “I saw them kissing, and like…” He trailed off, suddenly breaking eye contact. A brown blush started to spread across his cheeks. “And… they were saying all these mushy gushy things about being together forever, and like, hearts and love and stuff.” _

_ “Really?” Pattik watched the two padawans across the training grounds. He didn’t see anything romantic about them. Nor did he sense anything. _

_ “Yeah!” Ryun crossed his arms. “Watch. He’s gonna let her win. And- You see him smile? He didn’t teach her anything!” _

_ He didn’t admit that what the youngling said was true. The padawan did let the other win, and the smile- it didn’t strike Pattik as a victorious smile, more of a smile between friends. “I don’t think they’re lovers.” _

_ Ryun made a noise in frustration and left Pattik. _

_ He’d been glad that the boy had decided that Pattik wasn’t the master for him. He didn’t have time for an apprentice. _

_ But it was a week later when he was jogging through the forests when he’d sensed raw passion and had found the two padawans with their faces practically glued to each other. They spent the entire time back to the Temple insisting that they were stronger because of their love. Pattik deposited them for the Council to deal with. _

_ And then went right to Ryun’s dueling class to ask him to be his padawan. _

_ “Did you get them, Master?” Ryun asked, as if he could sense that the padawans were caught. _

Pattik dredged himself out of the memory. Ryun wasn’t asking about love-struck teenagers. He was asking about a monster stuck in Fiika’s head. “I’ll get him.”

Ryun was quiet.

That unsettled Pattik. Ryun wasn’t quiet. Ryun was all little noises under his breath as he observed the world. He did not understand the concept of thinking quietly, or if he did, he simply didn’t.

“Padawan. What else?” Pattik stood and his knees creaked.

“His kids. Arcann and Vaylin. They’re like him, you know, right? Arcann wants to chain the whole galaxy and Vaylin’s, like, the worst. She’s got all his evil Force powers.” Ryun tugged on his ear. “They… they’ll doom the whole galaxy, Master. When you face them down… Arcann already killed me. I don’t want him to kill you, Master.”

Pattik nodded, sensing where Ryun was taking this.. “Arcann is a threat to peace, but death is not a solution-”

“Like, I doubt he’d let himself be taken into custody!” The ghost shook his head. “And like Vaylin would let the Alliance keep her brother in a cell. They’re too dangerous. What about the galaxy? If they escape or whatnot, huh?”

“That’s the future. It’s all what-if’s. We don’t know what’s going to happen,” Pattik said gently.

Ryun’s eyes flared open. “But it could! Don’t you have a responsibility to stop them? For the good of the galaxy?”

Pattik walked over to the couch, towering over his former apprentice. “I will not kill them for no reason, not until the future is here. Don’t let your emotions cloud your judgement, apprentice. Senya and Fiika believe that Arcann may not be lost to his fury.”

“Senya’s his mother. And Fiika’s got Valkorian trapped in her head. Who knows if she really believes that or he’s just making her say that.”

_ I- I’ll think about that later. _

Pattik crossed his arms. “I will not doubt my allies. You might have achieved the rank of Knight before Korriban, but you still have much to learn. Now. Goodnight, Ryun,” he said sternly.

Ryun flicked him a jaunty salute and faded away.

_ What if Valkorian broke through Fiika’s defenses and doesn’t want his son killed- _

_ And Senya doesn’t want him killed because he’s her son- _

_ No. Doubt leads to uncertainty and suspicion. I have no reason to believe that Valkorian is influencing Fiika. Senya is rational. _

Pattik sunk down into the recently-vacated couch, rubbing his temples. He didn’t doubt Ryun, but he also didn’t think Fiika nor Senya were being manipulated or manipulative in their reasons for thinking that Arcann wasn’t a lost cause.

Senya had been insisting that Arcann needed to be stopped, but that he could be saved, since on the Gravestone.

Fiika’s expression when she quietly recounted to Pattik what happened in the forest had been stark. Her eyes had gone hollow when she described how abusive as a father Valkorian had been to Arcann. She didn’t think he was truly evil. She was like Senya; Arcann was saveable.

He groaned and leaned back, not sure who to believe. He did believe that Valkorian had been a monsterous father, but as to whether Arcann still had humanity in him… Pattik wanted to believe it, but Ryun had a point. If he didn’t-

_ I will be going in circles. _

Pattik would’ve welcomed back the song stuck in his head with open arms.

* * *

 

“See?” Vaylin brandished a datapad at him. “This is what happens when you’ve got a… what do the Imperial outlanders call it? A… fancy? This is what happens when you’ve got a fancy on that outlander.”

Arcann didn’t dignify her rant by telling her that she was using that phrase wrong. It would be like presenting her ammo to use against him, served up on a silver platter.

“We can’t raise taxes without causing more alarm. If they worry, they’ll start to feel dissent, and fear won’t help you here. We need to do something else… Are there any worlds or systems we haven’t touched?”

He half-listened, trying to untangle his emotions. Feeling this many was confusing enough, but he wasn’t even sure why he was feeling some of them, and others he didn’t recognize. “We should do something to raise their spirits,” he said distractedly. His mind and heart weren’t focused.

Vaylin latched onto that idea, and started pacing her sitting room. It was similar to Arcann’s, only less gold decals and a large painting adorned the southern wall. “That’s such a good idea, brother. What should we do? We’d have to announce something.” She paused to give him a significant look. “We can’t afford a party.”

_ Yes, I know, I’m to blame for Fiika and the Alliance stealing the treasury. _

If he hadn’t been so- so- smitten for her, if he’s recognized the true threat she was, he would’ve been prepared for a crafty attack anywhere-

_ I do not control her. There was no way to predict it. Am I truly to blame? _

The thoughts silenced everything else, including that messy tangle of emotions. Of course he was to blame. He was the Emperor. Everything was eventually his fault; blame rose up through the ranks like bile in the throat.

But he couldn’t control Fiika nor the Alliance. He wasn’t responsible for what they did, only not being prepared for their attacks-

And Zakuul was suffering for it. His fault that the Eternal Empire was near broke, his fault that it was known throughout Zakuul and his other systems that they’d been struck a heavy blow, and already reports had surfaced from Breaktown of minor riots over resources. Only minimal casualties, but… they were his people. He had to keep them safe.

What was the point of letting the galaxy know of Zakuul’s glory if he couldn’t even keep his citizens safe?

“Brother,” whined Vaylin.

He raised his eyes to look up at her.

She had one hand on her hip, the other still clutching the datapad. Her expression could best be described as ‘irritate’, and at worst as ‘one heartbeat away from tearing something limb-from-limb.’ “Were you even listening?”

“I’m thinking.”

“About her?”

He allowed his displeasure at her tone to show. “No. About Zakuul and our Empire. Is…” Arcann didn’t want to give a voice to his thoughts, but he had to know. “Is it my fault?”

Vayin’s frown flickered away to be replaced with confusion. She perched herself on the arm of the couch. “What do you mean?”

“The outlanders escaping, the Alliance forming, the theft of the treasury. I did not consider they’d empty the Gilded Star, so I did not prepare the ship. Nor did I believe they would be able to form a considerable Alliance against us.” Arcann sunk down further into his seat. “Our people have suffered. Is it my fault, if I can not control what happens?”

Silence.

He glanced at her.

Vaylin was staring at her datapad, very interested it suddenly. 

“Am I at fault?” he repeated. He needed to know.

“It’s your job as Emperor to protect your empire and citizens.” She frowned. “That means considering all possibilities that those outlanders could do to attack us.  _ I _ don’t blame you,” Vaylin added, implying that everyone else did.

_ You’re lying. _

Arcann could sense it. She thought he should have done better. A horrible mixture of fury and guilt started boiling in his belly. The other emotions he didn’t want to consider or think about decided to join in, too.

She slid off the armrest and resumed her pacing. “Maybe Indo should figure out what to do. A parade, some sort of festival…” Her smile was vicious as she added slickly, “an announcement of a consort.”

“Stop trying to get me a consort!” His bellow nearly shook the painting on the wall. Arcann took a deep breath, forcing his temper down. “I don’t want one. I don’t have the time nor desire, and your playing with the idea is taxing my patience.” He rocketed to his feet and stormed to the door.

He paused to glance at her over his shoulder.

The glimmer in her eyes was triumphant. This had been what she’d been wanting.

_ You never wanted to get me a consort. You wanted me to hate the idea, lest you lose the last of your family. _

Arcann sighed, but it came out of more of a growl. “Good night.” The door slid shut behind him, aided with the Force to audibly slam.

The boiling emotions in his chest were quickly going to erupt into something, probably something messy and destructive.

He didn’t feel like going to the sparring arena this late. Nor his room, nor the library or his study-

The garden.

If the rain would do anything, it would cool his temper faster. And it was distinctively more difficult to be furious when one was striding around in soaked robes.

Arcann strode through the halls until he was at the garden’s door. He stepped through, and a beat later, once he’d passed under the awning, was in the rain. Icy pellets of water hammered his head and slid down his neck. The lense on his mask clouded over.

His fury was not ebbing.

No, it was-

It was his fault that his citizens in Breaktown had died, his fault the treasury was gone, that his empire was threatened-

An image of Fiika when he’d stabbed her on Asylum surfaced in his mind.

That was his fault, too. His fault that she’d been wounded, his fault that he had a whole host of tangled emotions towards her.

The rain changed direction. He moved further into the garden, staring bleakly out at the city below.

_ It’s my job to keep this safe. I failed. _

My fault, howled the breeze as it sang through the spires below.

He leaned over the railing, rainwater leaking under his armor and seeping down his spine.

Why didn’t he hate her? He should. Fiika had repeatedly made him look and feel like a fool, she’d gotten into his head. She made him weak. She made him want that little bit of kindness she’d shown him.

And he hated that. He hated that he wanted to be weaker and wanted that kindness.

He didn’t hate her, no, he hated himself for not hating her.

His palm could still feel her fingers searching for him.

Lightning roared down and stuck something above.

He had failed. Who was he, an Emperor who wanted to be weaker to be given kindness by an enemy, when he was already too weak to keep his people safe.

Arcann slid down the railing wall. The rain was coming down in torrents. The door was barely visible through the gray curtain, the wetness stifling. It was difficult to tell if the droplets sliding down his exposed cheeks were tears or rain.

Failing again would be unforgivable. He couldn’t afford to feel weak, nor want his enemy to be kind.

He had to be stronger, for his people.

But his palm still tingled.

* * *

 

Vaylin could see a slightly lighter splotch against the garden wall. She was inside, peacefully hating the rain from her bedroom.

_ The rain pelted the bridge. She wasn’t cold from it anymore. She was always cold now. But Mother had thrown her cloak around her before turning to face the Horizon Guards. _

_ Mother’s boots didn’t slip. The Guards’ didn’t, either, but the Guards weren’t Mother. _

_ She blinked the rain out of her eyes, watching as Mother tore through the Guards. _

_ Water dribbled off her chin, until someone stood behind her, blocking the wet assault. His fingers dug into her shoulders protectively. _

_ Father. _

Vaylin shoved the memory aside with snarl. Mother had failed to ‘rescue’ her, as if she thought she could make up for thinking her own daughter a monster.

No, she didn’t need Mother, or Father. She had Arcann.

Her ploy with Eldine Zal had worked, too. He now hated the idea of ever having a consort. He wouldn’t leave her for that witch of an outlander. Or anyone, for that matter. She wouldn’t lose her brother. She wouldn’t lose her family.

And his guilt over the treasury being stolen…

Vaylin smiled down at the garden.

That guilt and blame would force him to strive to be a better Emperor. Make him hate that Alliance and Fiika.

She hummed as she shut the curtains, and then stopped.

Mother hummed.

Vaylin scowled as she hung up her cloak. She would never be like Mother.

Mother had abandoned her and Arcann, and now wanted them dead. She’d thrown her loyalty in with the outlanders.

No, being like Mother would be an insult. Vaylin would never leave Arcann.

The light on her datapad lit up. Vaylin glanced at the screen.

Indo Zal had some ideas on low-cost morale-boosters.

They would be perfect for Arcann. She had already fixed the problem of everyone knowing that the treasury was near empty. If she and Arcann weren’t bothered, the people wouldn’t be.

Of course, she didn’t really care for the way he was going about it; making the people think they weren’t worried. They were their people. If she or Arcann ordered them not to be worried, then they wouldn’t be, or any dissenters would be exiled from the cities.

He was so concerned over some gangs in Breaktown losing some members. It meant less gang members, right? Less people to do crimes, so less crimes… it made sense to Vaylin.

But she’d still gone the way he wanted to with a publicity show. She’d give him the suggestions tomorrow morning when he was done moping in the rain.

It would all work out.

What would Arcann do without her?

* * *

 

“Theron!”

He almost threw the mug into his desk drawer to hide it. It was a good thing he didn’t. First, it would have damaged his favorite datapad and the stack of folders. Second, Fiika had already seen it. Third, he had no reason to hide it.

The mug was filled with juice. Not caf.

So Theron ignored his instincts and smiled a greeting at her and Spook. The Sleen was trotting at her heels.

Fiika stopped and looked hesitant for a beat. “I- Alright, don’t interrupt me. This might get awkward. But when I was in the wilds with Emperor Arsehat, your mother sort of rescued me.”

His brain was empty on reactions. It wasn’t a first, but it was becoming rare enough to start to feel like a novelty. “My mother,” he repeated.

“What did I say about interrupting?” She fished around in her pocket. “And she gave me Master Pattik’s new lightsaber. And this.” The necklace pooled gracefully on his desk as she set it down.

Theron recognized it.

Satele had worn it for years. Under her tunic, but sometimes, especially when he was going into the S.I.S. or on Yavin, she held it in her palm.

He picked it up. It wasn’t a pendant like he suspected, no, it was a locket. Theron opened it-

And his brain was empty again.

Two holo-images of himself stared back. One when he was a toddler, hair a mess, and another… It was his first official S.I.S. file portrait. He’d been, what, sixteen? He’d sent the holo secretly to Master Zho. Apparently he’d passed it along to his mother.

“She wanted me to give it to you.”

Theron realized there was a lump in his throat he couldn’t fit any words past. He didn’t know how to react. 

It’d been weird enough to get a holo from Satele during a mission, only for Commander Jace Malcom to keep looking between him and the holo, before asking in an incredibly shaky voice how old Theron was.

Finding out that  _ the  _ Jace Malcom was his father had been.. Well, it’d taken about a week to come to terms to it. Jace had given him space, and while Theron found calling him ‘Dad’ awkward enough to not do it, Jace called him ‘son’ or ‘junior’ at times, always with a grin. Awkward as it had been, they’d settled into it. Theron got comfortable with now knowing who his father was, and Jace… it didn’t take much to realize how lonely the Commander had been, and having a son, no matter how old or in in the S.I.S., put a spring in his step.

They met for lunch every couple weeks. Or had. Jace wasn’t going to join the Alliance, he’d explained to Theron. It’d feel like he was betraying the Republic. Now it was a holocall every couple weeks.

But Satele. She never played the part of mother like how Jace wholeheartedly attempted to play the part of father.

She’d told Theron, once, when he’d called her “mom” as a child, that he couldn’t. She was only his mother in that she gave birth to him. Past that, she was just another Jedi. Master Zho had found him crying and asking why she didn’t want him. Was there something wrong with him? Was it because he couldn’t use the Force?

Those emotions had faded, but never left. It made any interaction with her awkward. If they were in the same room, even if there were a hundred other people, he always knew exactly where she was so he could make sure to avoid her.

Theron shut the locket with a snap. If she hadn’t wanted to raise him, then… why did she have his holos in a locket?

Did… she actually care about him?

He looked up and realized that Fiika had left him. 

She was now at her desk, looking livid as she sorted files, until she sprang to her feet to scream down the hall. “WHO BLOODY MESSED UP MY SYSTEM!”

_ Oops. _

Theron pretended he didn’t hear her. He’d gone looking for Jorgan’s report and couldn’t find it.

Something wet licked his hand.

He tucked the locket into a drawer and found Spook half-under his chair, tongue lolling out and eyes glittering playfully. “Fiika, your Sleen wants to play.”

“Spook, c’mere. Spook. Come- bloody hell.”

Theron had a theory that the Sleen didn’t care if hell was bloody or not. He was too busy trying to climb up to Theron’s desk to find the peanut butter toast. “Hey, that’s my breakfast- no, you can’t have it,” he chided gently as he set the Sleen back on on floor.

Fiika was there to pick him up like a toddler. “He’s really got a thing for peanut butter. Did you give him any?” she asked. Her tone was suspicious.

“I would never,” Theron lied, straight to her face. “If this is what he’s like before he’s had any, imagine what he’d be like if he’d had some.

Her suspicious look didn’t go away, but there wasn’t anything she could do to prove it. So she carried her Sleen away.

He turned back to his breakfast. It’d be his last decent meal until… well, no. He’d have plenty of decent meals on Darvannis, just spicy enough to melt his bones. The Mandalorians didn’t understand the concept of ‘mild’. This was his last easy-to-eat meal.

_ Armor, packed. Blasters, packed. Clothes, packed. Rations, packed. _

Nearly everything on his mental checklist was packed. Rations lacked the spice of Mando food, but were arguably less edible, with the texture of gluey flimsiboard.

Theron drained his juice mug. “Fiiks.”

“Hm?”

“If my recruiting goes well, I’ll need you before the rest of the Alliance comes. Lana put in an order of armor for you.”

She frowned. “Darvannis that dangerous? I thought it was a chiller and damper Tatooine. Bit like Korriban but without the ghosts.”

“Never been to Korriban.” Theron picked up his toast and slung his pack over his shoulder. “But you’ll have to help me get the place ready for the Alliance. There might be a small-scale war if this goes according to plan.”

“A plan that you won’t share- Spook!” Fiika dove across her desk as her Sleen tried to grab Theron’s toast. “Be careful.”

“You sound like Lana. I always am.” Theron grinned at her flat look and headed for the hangar.

* * *

 

“Izak damn this,” Senya swore.

Blood welled up from her palm as she searched for a clean rag to cover it with.

The offending carving tool was tossed aside. The other tools, probably planning how to extract their revenge for not being used in years, were still lined up neatly on her desk.

Senya found a washcloth and pressed it to her cut, calming her breathing. Slowly the Force built around her, flowing into her hand as she healed it. First it flared in pain, then itched something awful, then-

She moved the washcloth aside.

Only a pink half-moon shape remained on her palm.

Satisfied, she picked up a new tool and returned to the chuck of wood. The general shape of the Sleen had been carved out, and now she was starting to refine it. It was relaxing. She could forget everything and get lost in her art.

_ I think your mouth should be open. _

Senya started etching where she’d carve away to create Spook’s usual excited smile. If it was called a smile.

_ What should I do after this? _

Her mind drifted to other animals she’d seen on starfighters. Cartoony, but they gave enough detail for her to work with.

_ Orobird. _

That would work. They were rather cute, if gaudy.

Senya started to hum as she set about carving out Spook’s mouth.

* * *

 

“Why doesn’t Theron get paperwork like this?” Fiika asked the room at large.

The room didn’t respond, nor did the people in it. Lord Beniko was fully absorbed in something on her datapad, Master Pattik was inspecting old Jedi archives for something, and Senya wasn’t there because she was doing something else.

A whole lot of somethings that didn’t directly involve Fiika.

And Fiika was getting fed up with her paperwork.

She was going to find Koth, and see if the Gravestone needed any help. She missed being a pilot at times, or working on Marr’s warship and fiddling in the engines. There were no messy emotions or complex thoughts in the belly of a ship. Just pipes, steam, and curses when someone hit their thumb with a hydrospanner.

With minimal paperwork, if any.

Spook followed her out of the war room and through the base to the Gravestone’s gangway, and up into the ship.

Tora was in the hangar, and grinned at the Sleen. “Captain’s not gonna want him messin’ it all up.”

“I’ve got a way to convince your captain to let him stay.” Fiika hefted her sleen into her arms, decided he was starting to get too heavy to carry, and went to find Koth.

* * *

 

“Len.”

He didn’t seem to hear him.

Koth leaned across the giant vent and stuck his freezing water bottle against the back of Len’s neck.

“GODS!” Len reacted instinctively and ducked. He whacked the water bottle across the vent, where it hit a coolant pipe and rolled to a stop at the door. The open door.

Koth leaned back, laughing and waving at Fiika in the doorway. “Nice of you to join us.”

She glanced from the water bottle, to Len, and finally back to him. “Should I? Might I expect the same treatment?”

“Only if you don’t respond when I’m trying to get your attention.”

“You were-” Len frowned. “Sorry, Captain. I was thinking. I’ll…” He cleared his throat. “I’ll leave you two alone.” The big man gathered up his tools and ducked out of the vent room, nodding politely at Fiika.

She handed Koth his water bottle. “Do you need any help?”

“Oh, I don’t know, depends. I don’t need any piloting tips.” He winked. “Being the better pilot and all.” Her expression didn’t change. “What do you want to help with?”

“Anything but paperwork. Please.”

He braced his elbow on the vent, thinking. Most systems were fine, the last of the shot wiring from the swamp was changed out, and even the whole ventilation system had been cleaned by some very unhappy sabaac losers. “I don’t think we’ve got anything that needs work.”

“Brilliant.”

“But,” Koth continued. “Aygo’s going to run a mock attack on the Gravestone so we can prep  the defenses for fighters… And I’ve said enough, haven’t I?”

Fiika’s eyes had lit up. “That’s perfect. You better try and shoot me down.” She spun and headed down the hallway.

Maybe.

He popped open his water bottle and was about to have a drink when he heard her down the wall.

“Come on, Spook, let’s have some fun-”

“YOU LET HIM ONTO THE SHIP?”

* * *

 

Theron was not having the time of his life. Flying to Darvannis was far from peaceful. Gravity pockets were hitting the little shuttle at unpredictable intervals and his safety harness was just a little too tight in a very private place.

“Almost there!”

“I know,” he snapped. Miot was doing his best, but Theron could feel his breakfast bouncing around.

_ As long as it doesn’t bounce up and out. _

He winced as something loud clanged from the shuttle’s rear. “What was that?”

Miot shrugged unconvincingly. “Nothing to worry about.”

_ Next time I’ll get Fiika to pilot. This is- BLAST! _

The entire shuttle tumbled to the right.

“Nothing to worry about?” Theron repeated scathingly.

Miot banked the shuttle left. “Eh. You are still alive,” he said in Sullestese.

The shuttle entered the atmosphere and Theron winced at the sunlight. He pulled his cap on the shade his eyes. He gathered his pack and box of armor. It was all carefully padded and organized in such a way that he’d never get it back in one box on the way back.

Slowly the shuttle sunk down. The thrusters kicked up sand, blocking out the direct sunlight.

He unhooked himself from the safety harness and waited for the ramp to lower.

Miot powered off the engines.

As the sand settled, he saw them. Armor glinting in the sun, helmets giving nothing away but color preferences. Weapons he couldn’t name were hanging from belts or held casually, but there was no mistake in their body language. They’d kill him in an instant if he so much as looked at their leader the wrong way.

Over a hundred of them ringed the landing pad.

One stood out from the others. She was the only one with skin showing; holding her helmet at her side and watching him squint with amusement.

Theron swallowed any second thoughts.

It was time to meet the Mandalorians.

_ I’m going to need Fiika for this. _

* * *

 

Admiral Aygo shook his head. “That exercise is tomorrow. Vortena’s got his days mixed up again.”

Fiika stamped down on her disappointment. “That’s alright.” She motioned for Spook to follow her. Back to the paperwork. The bloody damned paperwork.

Lord Beniko was waiting for her in the war room. “Good, you’re here. You’re needed in the armory for your armor. Theron called. He wants your support on Darvannis.”

Fiika cracked a grin. “Thank the stars.”

* * *

 

Senya set the wooden Spook on the shelf over her desk.

The sleen’s tongue lolled out, hanging gracelessly from the left side of his mouth. His head was cocked just a little, giving him a mischievous look like he was about to find a way into the pantry.

She smiled, proud of herself. The tail might have been a little too small, the feet were a bit off, but it would come back with practice.

And the carving looked fitting over her desk.

Senya gathered her tool to clean and put away. Tomorrow would be another creature.

* * *

 

She hit the gravity pockets and cursed.

_ Could’ve bloody warned me, Theron. _

Fiika flicked on the dampeners and opened up all the flaps she could. She could’ve sworn she saw part of a stabilizer fin shoot by, but she hadn’t been paying attention and it didn’t belong to her fighter. So it was someone else’s problem.

The gunner seat behind her was empty, reserved for Theron if they needed to make a hasty getaway. It currently held her armor box and a pack of food. Theron’s specific directions of not to eat anything that she didn’t make herself had her raiding the rations and kitchens.

She entered the atmosphere.

_ Well, this looks like fun. Not. _

Fiika toggled the comm frequency to Theron’s. “I’m here. Where do I land?”

Nothing. Just static.

_ Emperor’s Underwear. _

She kept the line open. “This is Agent five-oh-five, repeat this is Agent five-oh-five, come in Agent Shan.” The sand below shifted into organized lines. A town with streets. “Agent Shan, this is Agent five-oh-five.”

“Fuck, that’s him, right? Shan?” The voice was gruff. “Yeah, we read you, girl. Here’re them coordinates.”

Fiika swept to the left and landed on a small landing pad. A shuttle with a missing top stabilizer sat stoutly across from her fighter.

_ Why didn’t Theron answer? _

Suspicion was growing in the back of her head. Under the pretense of peeling off her pilot gloves, she scanned the rooftops. No snipers, not unless they were hunkered down behind the walls and waiting for her to get done scoping the place out.

She tucked her gloves into her side seat pocket and slung her assault rifle across her chest. The viewport lifted at her flick of a switch, and she climbed down.

The sand was everywhere.

And no one was waiting for her.

Trap, screamed her nerves.

Fiika climbed back up and got her comm out of her pack. “Theron?”

No response.

Something made her turn around, rifle in hands.

Theron was standing between two buildings, looking sheepish, and escorted by-

A Mandalorian.

“You nearly gave me a blasted heart attack!” She yelled across the landing pad at him.

Theron shrugged. “We were taking precautions. Arcann’s got probes roaming the streets.” He sloshed through the sand to join her. “What can I help carry?” Leaning in close, he whispered. “You brought real food, right? Even their water’s too spicy to drink.”

“Yes, I packed food.” She grinned viciously at him, scars stretched painfully. “A real spy doesn’t complain about food.”

“I don’t want to get back to Odessen without any taste buds.”

Fiika passed him the pack of rations. “Oh, of course. How  _ horrid _ that would be.”

He rolled his eyes, ignoring her. “You’ll thank me later.”

* * *

 

Lana stared at the stack of paperwork on Fiika’s desk. It was enough files to be described a variety of ways, but the stack was beginning to rival a pyramid temple on Yavin IV. If it got any bigger, her desk would have to developer sentience to get some of the weight taken off of it.

She leaned over and gave the top files a cursory glance. Requisitions for radar sensors, a bookmarked report from Admiral Aygo on tomorrow’s fleet practice run, and… an order for Sleen food. More field reports from the spies and soldiers were stacked neatly.

Or had once been stacked neatly.

Fiika had run out of room to put all the files.

Lana hesitated, holding her own reports on Darvannis in her hands, before she set them atop everything else. Fiika would know about Darvannis when she got back, and could just easily file them wherever she put planetary reports.

_ I should put in a requisition for her to get a second desk. _

* * *

 

Torian lurked in the back of the tent, watching the two spies.

The Republic one was tall and gangly, giving off the impression that he never quite grew into his limbs. He had to shorten his stride to not outdistance his diminutive Imperial companion. But under that shambling pace, Torian could see the grace of a fighter. It was how the spy glanced around the room and seemed to instantly know the exact number of weapons, and still carried himself with respect and confidence. And healthy amount of wariness.

He turned his attention to the Imperial girl beside him.

It was impossible to not look at her scars first.

Two identical lines, pale and deep, cut through her lips. The middle of them, closest to her mouth, were pink, as if they were regularly stretched and occasionally torn open. He’d venture a guess that she often smiled despite the pain.

They weren’t decorative statement scars on pain tolerance. These were from something terrible that left a permanent mark.

But she didn’t hold herself with any less respect or confidence than her counterpart. She moved with a gracefulness that, accompanied with the well-loved daggers on her belt, told Torian that she was vicious in a knife-fight.

Where her Republic companion was wary, she was not. The Imperial openly met gazes with a bold stare. It was a dangerous thing to do in a camp full of Mandalorians. Some might take it as a challenge.

Torian slid his eyes up towards the roof of the command tent to avoid her sweeping look.

The pair of them stood in the middle of the command tent, quietly discussing things with the Mandalore. Or rather, the Republic spy was speaking while the Imperial had her little staredowns with the present Clan leaders.

He made the mistake of glancing at her right when she looked at him, and their eyes locked onto each other.

_ Ah. I understand. _

She was taking the measure of him. Her eyes might be staring at him, but she wasn’t looking at him. She was observing how he reacted to a very aggressive stare.

Torian nodded perceptively.

A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth before she moved to the next Clan leader.

* * *

 

Theron knew exactly what Fiika was doing, and told himself that, after the meeting when all the Clan leaders were going to challenge her to a fight, he would not be her back-up. He told himself this now because he knew that he would be, and at least he could pretend he put effort into not supporting her tactics.

He didn’t want to test his armor so soon.

Shae Vizla smirked at the holographic map of the city. “Here’s the safest place for your people to land. My hunters can watch the boundaries for more of those probes.”

He nodded.

Fiika had told him about the probes on the Gilded Star, and his experience with them was about the same as her’s. Shoot them down before they could transmit their location, or run like hell.

“That works. We’ll put in the call to the Alliance tomorrow after the camp’s prepared. No use calling this late at night.” Theron toggled a different part of the map, closer to the factory. “And this is where…” Twin circular platforms, too small for anything past swoop bikes, guarded the main approach.

“The walkers get dropped.”

“The what?” Fiika leaned over to interject herself into the conversation. “Did you say walkers?”

Theron spoke before Shae could. “No she did not.” He shook his head the tiniest of fractions, hoping Shae would pick up on it. Fiika did not need to get inside a walker. Or know that was even an option.

Shae narrowed her eyes, suspicious. “No, I didn’t. How about we finish this tomorrow after we get your people on their way here?”

“Perfect.”

She nodded. “Hope you’re hungry for dinner.”

_ Shit. The rations are in the tent. _


End file.
